


Away From Home

by truelyesoteric



Series: Safe Verse [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Kid Fic, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, No Children Are Hurt, Original Character Death(s), Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1224547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truelyesoteric/pseuds/truelyesoteric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek tried to put his screaming son into the back seat. Dade was stubborn and hadn’t seemed to like going to see the doctor, in fact he was still shifted. He was eight months old and already a handful. </p><p>Derek’s phone rang.</p><p>“Hello,” Derek said, putting the phone on his shoulder and attempted to strap his son in.</p><p>“Hey Derek,” the Sheriff said. “Is Stiles with you?”</p><p>“No,” Derek said. “He isn’t at the station yet? I’m running behind, he was supposed to bring Henry there.”</p><p>“Not yet,” the Sheriff said. “ I tried calling a few times, he isn’t answering.”</p><p>“Did you try Lydia?” Derek asked, reaching for a stuffed hippo that Dade loved so much.</p><p>“She’s not answering either,” the Sheriff said quietly.</p><p>The hairs on the back of Derek’s neck rose. “She always answers her phone.”</p><p>“I know,” the Sheriff said. “That is what I’m worried about.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Diners and Playgrounds

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably make the best sense if you start from the beginning! It's worth it, I promise.
> 
> So there are those who don't read WIPs, but I wanted to start putting this up while the rest of it is being finessed. The story is done, just some slight things to make it better and RL is making progress slow. Those who don't read WIPs, I'll see you at the end! I plan on updating once a week.
> 
> Also it starts schmoop and ends schmoop, but it goes dark in the middle. There is violence and a bad guy, but some of those parts have some real raw beauty afterwards. So I hope you read it anyway.

“We need to get more wolfsbane and mountain ash,” Stiles said. “We’re running low.”

Derek just nodded absentmindedly and put Cheerios on the table and reached for Tabasco sauce. 

They sat in the corner booth of the local diner, as they were most Saturdays. Stiles and Henry on one side and Derek with Dade in his lap on the other. Dade had the tendency to attempt to break the high chairs and they had given up on putting him in one.

Their regular status as patrons of this greasy spoon was due to the fact that four year old Henry was going through a picky stage. No matter how Stiles and Derek cooked oatmeal, Henry wanted diner oatmeal, nothing but diner oatmeal would do. He would look at them with his little eyebrows and the sullen Hale stare, stubbornness barely contained by his little body and they would give in.

“We’re not pushovers?” Derek would occasionally ask.

Stiles would shrug. “Sometimes life can be hard, who are we to deny him oatmeal?”

Truth was, they knew they were pushovers a little, at least when it came to their boys and each other. But family is what made Derek and Stiles happy and they indulged it as much as they could.

Dade looked skeptically at the Cheerios on the table from his place on Derek’s lap. Stiles sighed, because Dade had that look on his tiny little face. Dade didn’t even have teeth and he already seemed to be plotting half the time. At eight months old he was already showing signs of becoming a criminal mastermind.

Stiles looked up at Derek, meaning to say something, but momentarily distracted. A little over four years hadn’t changed the fact that Stiles’s couldn’t believe that this was his life. Derek, Derek Hale, was at their home, was raising their children, and slept in their bed each night. This life was theirs.

The moment was broken when Dade screeched and slapped his pudgy hands on the Cheerios and they went flying everywhere. He eyed his Cheerios, glanced at his dad’s plate, and then his chubby little hand reached out and took a potato quicker than Stiles could react. With a little sound of glee he shoved the potato in his mouth, gnawing and gumming it, getting more potato on his face than in his mouth. 

Dade had wide amber eyes and little moles and white skin. Every time Stiles looked at him, he was reminded of his grandfather’s words to his father, “I hope you have a son just like you.” Stiles found too many similarities to himself in his youngest son.

Derek blinked at Dade. With a patience born from something like this happening four or five times a day, he shifted Dade away from the plate and reached for a napkin.

Henry chewed on his spoon as he watched his brother.

Stiles shook himself. “Wolfsbane and mountain ash,” he repeated, bringing them back to the earlier conversation. “Deaton has it for us.”

Dade made another lunge at Derek’s plate and came up with a potato. His ensuing laugh seemed to be a bit maniacal. Derek snorted with amusement.

“And by us, I’m assuming you mean that you’ll pick some up on your way home from the station?” Derek said, trying to extricate the potato from toddler hands because Dade was now just smearing it everywhere. “Because I’m assuming you’re not tired enough of me yet to make me handle that stuff.”

Dade started growling at his dad’s attempt to come between him and his potato, his eyes glinting gold. Derek gave up.

“Aren’t you glad you never gave me the bite?” Stiles asked, watching Dade chomp happily on the dregs of potato. “The bite is not a gift.”

“I never tried to give you the bite,” Derek pointed out.

“I am confusing you with Peter,” Stiles told him taking a big bite of his pancakes, and finishing with his mouth full. “It happens.”

Derek glared at him.

Henry peered over at his brother. “Is Dade going to shift?”

They all looked at Dade, who smiled at the attention and ate his potato with gusto. Derek wisely moved the plate out of Dade’s way. Dade looked up at him with wide amber eyes, full of agonized betrayal.

Derek melted.

Stiles rolled his eyes because it didn’t take much for Derek to cave. Stiles was all fine when Derek let him have his own way, but they had to set boundaries for their kids. He picked up a spoon and twacked Derek with it.

Derek looked up at him, his eyebrows raised as he shook off his hand.

“Do not fall for mini-me,” Stiles commanded. “And you’re going to see Deaton today. Have him put it in the trunk.”

Derek looked at him, almost scandalized. “You want me to put wolfsbane in the car with our son?”

“We keep guns and bug killer in the house,” Stiles replied with a smile. “Those things could kill me.”

Derek gave him a withering look. “I’m hoping that you know well enough how to use those things and not put random things in your mouth like a child.”

Stiles just gave him an innocent grin. Derek glared, but the edges of his mouth curled into a little smile.

The waitress came to fill up the adults’ empty mugs. 

“You guys have the cutest family,” she gushed.

“Thanks Emily,” Stiles said, pushing his cup towards her.

Emily still was grinning as Derek made faces at Dade, making him laugh and clap. She was mooning at Derek, in a most obvious way. Henry didn’t really understand the situation, but he noticed Stiles becoming annoyed, and began to glower at her.

Derek looked over at the two of them, his cheeky grin showing he knew exactly what was going on.

“Thanks Emily,” Derek said, winking at Stiles. “I like them plenty.”

Emily made some more cooing noises until Derek pointedly looked at Stiles’s cup and she quickly and poured him coffee.

Flustered, Emily bustled away. Stiles rolled his eyes at her retreating back.

“Maybe this family thing was a bad idea,” Stiles said. 

Derek raised an eyebrow. “It’s not really something that you can return if it doesn’t fit.”

Henry looked up with his wide light green eyes, his spoon still partially in his mouth. “But I love you.”

Stiles nudged his shoulder. “And you really are my favorite. I would never trade you in.”

Henry looked over at Dade. “He can be traded.”

“We can’t trade Dade,” Stiles said, kissing Henry’s head. “He’s ours.”

At that moment Dade, who had been slowly sneaking towards Derek’s plate, reached out and grabbed a sloppy handful of over easy eggs. He let out a triumphant noise and shoved the yolky mess into his mouth.

Henry looked up pointedly at Stiles. Stiles and Derek tried not to laugh.

“He reminds me so much of you,” Derek said to Stiles, reaching for more napkins and dipping it in the water.

“Hey,” Stiles said.

“Stiles, I haven’t eaten more than three French fries in years,” Derek said wiping down Dade, who was making a great game of avoiding the wet napkin. “They always mysteriously disappear.”

“It is our unspoken agreement,” Stiles defended replied defensively. “Besides I don’t want you to ruin your arteries.”

“And yours are fine?” Derek said. “I like your arteries clean. Mine are not in jeopardy.”

“What if they put wolfsbane in the fries?” Stiles asked. “I’m looking out for you.”

“Wolfsbane is now a cooking ingredient?” Derek asked.

Henry tugged on Stiles’s sleeve and held up his spoon. “Taste for me, Daddy?”

Stiles looked at the oatmeal with a little revulsion, he didn’t know how Henry ate this stuff. Stiles, however, had dug this grave with his comment, and he was now the family food taster. He took a bite and then nodded and swallowed the awful paste Henry loved so much.

“Its good,” Stiles said, trying not to gag.

Henry went back to eating and Stiles looked pointedly at Derek. Derek just shrugged.

“When we first started everyone looked at me with that ‘poor Stiles’ look,” Stiles gave a long suffering sigh. “The old ladies used to ask me if you were treating me right. They even gave me cookies.”

“I can see how people not thinking that I bullied you into a relationship must be a heavy burden,” Derek said, trying to pull a spoon away from Dade’s mouth. “They still give you cookies, though.”

“They give you cookies,” Stiles pouted. 

“Which I give to you,” Derek pointed out and tried to pull Dade away from where he had lunged towards Derek’s eggs again.

“Not the same. You turned super dad and go to playgroups and stay at home with them and now everyone just looks at you and melts,” Stiles said. “I had one thing, one little little thing, which was the adoration of this town and you took it from me.”

Stiles heard the familiar noise of his father in the sheriff’s gear coming towards the table. 

“I have it on good authority that most people considered you the boy most likely to commit petty crimes,” the Sheriff said. He stood at the end of their booth, hip cocked and a hand resting on the butt of his gun. “Most of them watched you to make sure you weren’t crossing the lines.”

Stiles groaned and buried his head in his hands. “Everything is against me.”

The Sheriff just nodded, well used to his son’s histrionics. 

The Sheriff leaned over to Dade. “Hi Claude, how are you?”

“He’s Dade,” Henry piped up seriously.

The Sheriff turned to Henry and then to Stiles in askance.

“In the great Stilinski tradition, Claude has a nickname,” Stiles told the Sheriff. “Henry decided two days ago that naming him after my mother was sweet, but Claude was not a name for a baby. Since Dade is too young to come up with his own nickname Henry gave him one.”

The Sheriff nodded. “That sounds fair.”

Dade looked at the table staring at him and under all their gazes he grabbed all of the Cheerios and stuffed them in his mouth.

“He might be evil,” Henry observed.

“He does have Stiles’s DNA,” the Sheriff said.

“Stop enjoying this so much,” Stiles muttered.

Derek picked Dade up and handed him to the Sheriff.

“I think he’s needed on the other side of the table,” Derek said.

The Sheriff grinned and handed Dade to Stiles. “Cleanup on aisle Dade.”

Stiles took Dade. Dade squealed and held food covered hands at Stiles. Stiles laughed and reached for his napkin.

The Sheriff had a proud look on his face. “You have to pardon him, Derek. He was an only child.”

Derek was grinning at Stiles with the boys. “You don’t have to apologize for him. I think that is my job now.”

“Hey,” Stiles said as he was mauled by a hyperactive werewolf baby and 4-year-old.

The Sheriff sat on Derek’s side and stole Stiles’s coffee. He grinned at his son and grandsons.

“Grandpa looks good on you,” Derek said, watching the Sheriff.

“Dad looks good on him,” the Sheriff said. “To be honest when the two of you got together there were actually naysayers that said that either you would have a horrible break up that would divide the town, or you’d go on a crime spree.”

“We proved them all wrong,” Stiles said, pulling Dade back from where he was lunging at Henry who was making faces at him.

“Well there is always the next generation,” the Sheriff commented blandly.

Stiles reached for his cell phone and checked the time. He hurriedly shoved the last of his pancakes in his mouth and reached for his keys, as he chugged the last of his coffee.

“I’m going to be late,” Stiles said, grabbing for Henry’s coat, his mouth full of food. “What time will you be done with Deaton?”

Derek shrugged. “It will probably take about an hour or two, depending on how cooperative Dade is.”

“So probably three,” Stiles said.

“Well baby check up?” the Sheriff asked.

Derek made a face.

“Derek still doesn’t like taking the boys to a vet,” Stiles offered.

“Understandable,” the Sheriff said. 

Derek shrugged and Stiles stood up, handing Dade over to Derek.

“I’m sad that I’m going to miss the rest of this conversation, but nobody keeps Lydia waiting,” Stiles said and then turned to his father. “Henry and I are meeting Lydia at the park.”

Stiles kissed Dade on the head. Dade reached up and grabbed his nose.

“I’m so sorry that I’m going to miss the three of you,” Derek deadpanned, extricating his youngest son from Stiles’s face. Derek’s fingers lingered on Stiles’s jawline and Stiles leaned in for a kiss. With two young kids, they really took the chance for romance when they could get it.

“See if Lydia wants to take the kids to Allison’s tonight,” Derek suggested quietly.

Stiles lit up. It had been awhile since they had the kids out of the house. Derek grinned back.

“So we’ll be taking a trip to IKEA this weekend,” the Sheriff remarked blandly.

Derek choked and Stiles turned a bright shade of red. It was a fair statement, most of their nights alone ended up with broken furniture. Stiles always wanted to try something new and Derek always wanted to try Stiles.

“Derek’s making our furniture now,” Stiles muttered, putting on his jacket with gusto. “It’s sturdy.”

Derek coughed harder. They had broken the coffee table that he had made a few months ago.

“Shoo,” the Sheriff said, highly amused. “You don’t want to keep Lydia waiting, try not to cause mischief and mayhem, you know how the three of you get.”

“Not everyone can hang,” Stiles shrugged and reached a hand out for Henry. “Ready big man?”

Henry took his hand. “Lydia!”

“The lady waits,” Stiles said to Henry. 

“Yet I’ve never known you be on time,” the Sheriff commented. “You are always late for our family meals and for work.”

Stiles just looked at his father. “I love Lydia more apparently.”

“What are you going to do when Stiles take the kids and leaves you for Lydia,” the Sheriff asked, turning to Derek.

“Walk through my living room without stepping on toys, finish a book that doesn’t have pictures in it, actually have milk in the fridge and not on the counter, and probably go on a nice quiet vacation somewhere on the beach,” Derek said immediately.

Stiles mock pouted. “You’d be lost without me.”

Derek grinned at him and looked down at his plate.

“My son looks good on you too,” the Sheriff said.

The three adults at the table stilled and all turned red.

“Let’s pretend that I didn’t say that,” the Sheriff muttered. “Or that I said it some other way.”

“Yeah, let’s,” Stiles said, saluting and turning to go out of the room.

*  
Henry held Stiles’s hand as they walked through the park. Stiles had to steer a little bit because Henry was staring at his wrist as his other hand grasped Stiles’s with a little too much strength.

“What’s up buddy?” Stiles asked, the hand that wasn’t being crushed fiddling with the phone in his jacket pocket. Be it werewolf genes or just the fact that his son was incredibly precocious, Henry had the tendency to ask questions that required Stiles and Derek to call upon the services of Google. Stiles had no idea how is father did it before search engines. There was a good chance that the Sheriff had often given Stiles misinformation.

“Is Spiderman’s blood webs?” Henry asked stretching out his arm.

Stiles thought for a moment. They had started reading comic books during bedtime and Henry was far too practical about such things, once again something Stiles chalked up to the werewolf side of him. In their life, supernatural was just kind of natural.

Henry’s always looked at Stiles with adoration, like he knew everything. Recently though, Stiles felt like he needed Stan Lee’s number. Answering questions about superheroes was less easy than explaining how the television worked. Stiles bit down squeezed Henry’s hands hoping that Henry would let up a bit.

“He built shooters, because he’s smart,” Stiles told him, knowing that there were going to be some follow ups after Henry saw the movie and resisted the urge to diatribe about various canons.

“What are the webs made of?” Henry asked.

Fortunately they were halfway to the playground.

“Look there is Lydia,” Stiles said pointing her out.

Henry pulled free and ran the remaining distance to Lydia. She was wearing heels and seemed to stand out but her grin at the sight of them was blinding.

“Lydia,” he squealed, arms wrapping around her waist.

“Hi little direwolf,” Lydia said. “Your fathers treating you right?”

Henry looked up at her with a grin. “No. I wanna go home with you.”

Lydia patted him on the head. “Go swing show me how high you can go. I’m going to strong arm your father into letting me take you home with me.”

“Yay,” Henry hollered and ran towards the swings.

Stiles came up and gave Lydia a hug.

“He’s still a really happy kid,” Lydia said, watching Henry.

“Did you ever doubt?” Stiles asked.

“With the barely adult and the extremely emotionally distressed werewolf? The two who took eight years to get into a relationship and then decided to skip all the steps and move in together the day of their first date?” Lydia asked. “What could possibly go wrong?”

Stiles laughed and pulled her towards the benches.

“How long do we get you before you have to go back and wow the world?” Stiles asked as he watched Henry swing. “Good boy!”

Henry was grinning and pumping himself higher, much higher than the average kid liked to go on the old park swings. Stiles watched Henry’s little legs move a little too fast, the swing’s chains creaking slightly. Henry grinned and waved, nearly losing his balance. He recovered and continued to go higher and higher. 

“Aren’t you worry about him exposing his werewolf strength?” Lydia asked.

Stiles watched Henry a minute. “He’s showing off for you, but it isn’t that noticeable.”

“He’s going to be a lady killer,” Lydia beamed and then looked over at Stiles. “Or just a person killer, all things being equal.”

“I hope not,” Stiles retorted. “Derek and I are trying to avoid the outcome of dead bodies. We feel it will reflect poorly on our parenting skills.”

Lydia snickered. Stiles just watched Henry.

“He looks more and more like Derek everyday,” Lydia said. “Except he smiles more.”

“Derek smiles plenty these days,” Stiles told her. “Maybe you should stick around, maybe learn a few things.”

Lydia sighed.

“I’m here for a week and then I’m off to lecture in Switzerland,” Lydia said. “Just here to buy Allison maternity clothes and about a million things for the baby.”

“You’re really becoming a kid person,” Stiles commented, letting the rest go.

“Hey you guys keep having babies and I’ll spoil them,” Lydia said, flipping her hair. “I just don’t want to have to change diapers. I can’t believe that Allison is pregnant. Isaac and Scott are ridiculously excited.”

“You should have been there for the ceremonious dumping of the birth control into the toilet bowl,” Stiles told her. “Not that I was. I was only there for the day after. It was kind of funny with Scott realizing that they had just tried to make a baby and he was hyperventilating.”

“He was having second thoughts?” Lydia asked.

“I thought the asthma was returning,” Stiles laughed. “He wasn’t having second thoughts, but he was batshit insane. She didn’t get pregnant right away. It took two more months and by that time Scott was going ‘I’m the Alpha she should be impregnated by now!’.”

“How did Isaac take that?” Lydia asked.

“Isaac smacked him and pointed out that it was both of them trying,” Stiles laughed. “Then Allison pointed out that birth control takes a little bit to get out of the system, then they holed up for a week. I’m pretending that the three of them played Monopoly that whole time. Whatever they did calmed both the ego and the panic, also pregancy by Monopoly happened. Scott realized that the kid was going to have more parents than necessary. He is kind of excited about starting a new family.”

Lydia smiled and watched Henry as he jumped off the swing and landed crouched on the ground. Stiles wondered if landing with one hand on the ground was genetic. Henry waved and then went back to the swing.

“It’s understandable,” she said, blowing Henry a kiss. “None of us has a very good backstory. All of us had something that broke our families and we were raised by one parent or by lack of parenting. It was isolating.”

“We did okay,” Stiles said.

“Yeah but none of our kids will be alone,” Lydia said, taking Stiles’ hand and giving it a squeeze. “Even if his house is burnt down there are people in this world who will make sure that he has a place. He won’t have to run off across the country. He’ll have family.”

“We aren’t talking about the future McCall-Argent-Lahey child still, are we?” Stiles said stiffly.

“We’re talking about all the kids,” Lydia said. “They’re not going to have to go through what we went through.”

Stiles turned to look at her. “It just feels fragile you know. All the sudden I have kids, I have Derek and they mean more to me than anything else. It can be so easy to lose them.”

Derek never dreamed of fire, but Stiles often did. Derek’s family burned and he had nobody. Derek had been lost to wander, there had been no one he could turn to with his family gone.

Lydia seemed to read his mind. “Anything happens to you and they’re not alone. I will get the FBI and CIA to find them and then I will take care of them. They’ll never end up blowing in the wind like Derek.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said scrunching up his face. “But you do know that in that scenario Derek and I are dead.”

“And nothing will ever happen to the boys,” Lydia said. “Well nothing will happen to you either, but you have so many fail-safes.”

Stiles swallowed. “That is strangely comforting.”

Lydia smiled. “We’re a family.”

“We?” Stiles said, nudging her shoulder. “Are you going to come back from your lecture and research circuit for more than a month sometime?”

Lydia smiled secretively. “Didn’t we just sidestep this conversation?”

“C’mon,” Stiles said with a pout. “Come back here and create a think tank and rule the world from Beacon Hills.”

Lydia made a face. “Don’t rush buddy. You got your normal and you got to choose here. I’ll make the decision in my own time.”

“So how is the man in every country thing going,” Stiles said, changing the subject again. 

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Seriously Stiles, I’m not just picking one.”

“That’s my girl,” Stiles grinned.

Lydia gave him a long look. “Right, you?”

“Hey,” Stiles said. “I dated.”

Lydia continued to stare at him.

“Okay would you consider it living vicariously through you?” Stiles said a little meekly.

“And how am I supposed to live vicariously through you if you don’t agree to marry Derek?” Lydia asked.

Stiles twisted his hands in his lap, watched the tips of his fingers turn white and pink and white again before he said anything. “You heard about that.”

“He’s asked twice,” Lydia said. “You love him, you have kids with him, I really don’t understand why you haven’t said yes yet.”

Stiles looked up at her. “He’s made enough commitments in his life, he has take on responsibilities because he thinks he has to. I’m not going to be something that he has to do”

Lydia cocked her head. “I don’t think that he would ever think that.”

“I’m not Meg, I don’t need a contract to believe what is between us is between us,” Stiles replied defensively. “I don’t want to be something that he is tied to. I want him to be with me everyday because he wakes up and wants it.”

Lydia raised an eyebrow. “I think that is why he asked. You may be the first choice that he has ever made on his own, instead of forced by fate.”

Stiles turned back to his son who was still happily swinging.

Lydia poked him. “Are you scared? Is all your hesitation and breaking Derek Hale’s heart because you have cold feet.”

Stiles bit his lip. His own reasons were muddled in his head. He didn’t know why ‘yes’ didn’t tumble off his tongue. The look on Derek’s face had been blank as Stiles had tried to ramble through lame reasons that effectively could be summed up by ‘I love you, I’m just not ready.’ Although Stiles himself couldn’t clearly verbalize why.

Henry swung higher, humming his own superhero soundtrack as he went back and forth on his endless arc. Stiles smiled, he had learned more about Derek through helping Henry blend in. Derek had taught them both to be aware of showing too much strength. Stiles had been let in and he understood that years of vigilance had made Derek wary, but Derek had given Stiles carte blanche of all of his secrets.

For years Stiles had kept the secrets of the pack, had protected and advocated for them first through his father and now as a member of BHPD. Stiles wouldn’t hurt Derek, Not after everything that had happened. He knew how much Derek had lost, Stiles knew he would never use Derek, would never break his heart and he would never betray the family that they created, but something in him was absolutely terrified of saying yes. He took a deep breath and turned a cocky smile to Lydia. 

“I’m not scared of anything,” Stiles said. “Werewolves, kanimas, and Gerard Argent.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but suddenly her face blanched white and she looked around her eyes unfocused.

“Something is wrong,” she rasped. 

They had been through this far too many times for him to even pause. He knew what happened when Lydia sensed that there was something wrong.

“Where is Henry?” Stiles said standing up, looking to where Henry’s swing was still moving, but the boy was nowhere to be seen.

Lydia looked like she was about to cry as she scanned the area. “I don’t know what is going on, but we need to get out of here.”

Stiles got up. “Stay here.”

Stiles stood, and walked up to the park. Henry would be there, he just needed to take a couple of breaths. Kids ran off, it’s what they did, he was probably just poking into that storm drain that Isaac had shown them to play dens and dragons in.Stiles tried not to jump to the worst conclusion, but their lives lived in the worst that could happen. He was having a hard time focusing with his panic rising in his throat.

“Henry,” he said, low and urgent, knowing Henry would be able to hear him above the other children. He walked through the monkey bars and slides. 

Stiles couldn’t see anything but yelling children, other children, not his child. All he could hear was screaming and the slap and twang of little feet on bright plastic play things. That look on Lydia’s face, stark and wide eyed, was not a good thing. He had been lucky enough not to see it on her face for years.

“Henry,” he yelled, not caring about attracting attention any more.

A little flash barreled into him. Arms wrapped around his thighs and held tightly. Stiles could feel little claws digging into his leg.

Stiles felt his breath punched out of him as he half collapsed, half knelt, looking down into green, worried eyes. 

“Daddy, daddy.” Henry said, a little breathless. Henry always did have a six sense when it came to heightened emotions. Stiles didn’t even have to say anything when he was sick or stressed, Henry would just curl up with him.

Stiles picked him up and held him tight. He tried to calm himself. The last thing he needed was for Henry to panic and shift in front of everybody here. 

“It’s okay,” Stiles said, knowing Henry heard the lie. “Lydia doesn’t feel good. We need to go.”

Stiles turned to the bench. It was now empty. Stiles swore that his heart stopped.

“Daddy?” Henry asked. 

Stiles grit his teeth and found his calm. He had to be calm. His son’s tiny arms needed him to hold them together.

“Hey Henry,” Stiles said gently. “Do you know where Lydia is? Can you smell where she is?”

Henry lifted his head and looked around. He sniffed. Stiles started to walk around, not seeing Lydia.

“There,” Henry said. Stiles followed his finger towards the woods. 

He was moving before he realized how stupid rushing headlong into the unknown was. Stiles had his service weapon in the car, but his first thought was to go after Lydia. As he reached the edge of the woods, he realized that Lydia would have no reason for being over here that didn’t involve something that he shouldn’t be bringing his four year old child into. With his free hand he reached into his pocket for his phone.

But before he could pull it out he caught sight of Lydia and every other thought fled his mind.

She was standing on the secluded edge of a small clearing. Behind her was a hulking man whose face was shaded by the trees.

Her shirt was torn. On her shoulder was a growing red spot. Her hair was disheveled. A clawed hand was around her neck, claws digging into the skin under her ear.

She looked at Stiles with wide eyes. He knew that she was telling him to run for a split second. Then her eyes widened, looking more horrified, and Stiles knew that there was someone behind him. He held Henry closer.

“I think you have something of mine,” Stiles said calmly, trying loosen his death grip on his son, trying not to flinch at Henry’s claws dug into his shoulder.

Inspite of everything Lydia rolled her eyes. Stiles was looking forward to the time very soon when she would make him pay for that comment.

“Doubtful,” a deep voice said far too close at Stiles’s neck. Stiles didn’t flinch. “You might want to put the boy down.”

Stiles felt a prick of a needle at his neck.

“If you don’t put him down, he will fall,” the voice said menacingly. “You are about to pass out.”

Stiles tried to look around but felt the needle prick deeper. “Don’t hurt him.”

“You’re the one who it seems is going to hurt him,” the voice said.

Stiles felt a the needle prick and a warmth in his neck and he hastily let Henry slide to the ground.

In less than a second the world went black.


	2. Abandoned Buildings and Sketchy Vans

Stiles came to consciousness slowly. A list of things he had to do crossed his mind before he realized that the last thing he remembered was letting go of Henry. He opened his eyes immediately and looked around. The broken plaster walls and grubby floor suggested he was in one of Beacon Hills' many abandoned buildings. He was going to get someone to raze these buildings. He hated that bad guys seemed to think that Beacon Hill’s economic decline meant that they had a new playground.

His hands were handcuffed behind him around a thick wooden pole. Looking down he realized he was wearing hospital scrubs he’d never seen before, and they smelled like someone else’s body odor. Whoever had kidnapped him was well aware of what they were doing, and why they had to do it. 

Panic gripped him as he thought of Henry, but scanning the darkened room he saw Henry curled up a few yards in front of him, face buried in his knees. Stiles could hear his son sobbing and his heart broke a little. He tried to calm himself. Henry was more empathetic than any wolf he had ever met. Stiles had to be calm.

“Hey buddy,” Stiles said quietly. “Its okay, We’re okay. I’m not sleeping anymore, we’re okay.”

Henry lifted his tear stained face and sucked back a sob. 

“‘m okay,” he whispered.

Stiles could see two ropes binding Henry’s legs to the pole next to him. He was wearing small pajamas and didn’t seem to be bleeding anywhere, but Stiles could see the skin under the rope was red and raw, even though they didn’t seem to be tied too tightly. Stiles was pretty sure that they were wolfsbane soaked ropes.

“Does it hurt?” Stiles asked gently.

Henry nodded.

“It’s alright, Monkey,” Stiles said. “Well get them off soon. Hold on for me, okay?”

Henry nodded again.

Stiles shuffled around a little took in the room. It was a wide open space, a warehouse that didn’t seem to have been used for a very long time. There was a wide open truck hatch letting in enough light that he could make out the fact that the room was empty except for poles and dust. Stiles studied the dark dust that was around them in a circle. Stiles would bet everything that they had that it was wolvesbane. Craning his neck Stiles could see Lydia handcuffed to pipes a few feet behind him. She was laying on the ground, one arm stretched awkwardly above her body. She was still passed out.

“Henry,” Stiles said, trying his best to stay calm. “I need you to do something I can’t.”

Henry nodded eyes wide. 

“I need you to listen to Lydia’s heart beat and I want you to count along with the beats,” Stiles said, trying to remember Melissa’s medical instructions on pulses.

Henry sniffled and looked a Lydia, before he looked at Stiles and began counting in a small voice. “One.”

Stiles listened as Henry counted to thirty. Stiles relaxed at the stream of numbers. It didnt’ seem like Lydia heart beat was too abnormal.

Henry stopped and Stiles startled. 

“I forgot what’s next,” Henry said, looking like he was going to cry again.

“It’s okay, you helped me,” Stiles told him. “She’s okay.”

Henry bit his lip. “Blood.”

Stiles contorted as much as he could to see Lydia. 

“A little or a lot?” Stiles asked.

Henry sniffled. “A little.”

Stiles nodded. “Okay, we’re good. She’s going to be fine.”

Stiles studied the room again, eyes adjusting. He looked for anything to help them in this situation, but there was nothing but the three of them, poles, pipes on the walls, a wolvesbane circle, and so much dust. 

“Little man,” Stiles said gently. “I need you to be strong. I need you to hold on, we’re going to be out of here, just hold on. Your father is the strongest wolf ever and there is no way that anything is ever going to happen to us. You will be safe, you will always be safe.”

“Okay daddy,” Henry said in a small voice.

“Well isn’t this just the cutest thing ever,” a voice rang out coming from the truck opening.

Stiles wrenched himself around the pole trying to see who had spoken. It was the same voice he’d heard behind him in woods. The man stood in shadows, but Stiles could make out features. He looked familiar, but Stiles couldn’t quite place him.

“You know who we are,” Stiles stated.

The man stepped forward and Stiles could see him more clearly. He gave a wry smile. “I’m well aware.”

Stiles swallowed, because this guy didn’t cross the wolvesbane line. He stood the distance away. A flicker of red in his brown eyes confirmed that this guy was in fact a werewolf, an Alpha on another’s territory. This was a powerplay that wasn’t done. 

“Leave now,” Stiles said, looking the man in the eye. Stiles voice was calm, his eyes were steady.

The man laughed. “You’re hardly in any position to tell me what to do.” 

Stiles just leveled him with a steady look. “If you know who we are then you know what taking us means.”

“Hale’s human and child?” the man said. “I’m fairly sure I have a clue.”

Adrenaline flooded Stiles’s body and he went cold at the shock of confirmation. He’d known, since he’s woken up and seen them all alive but scent-disguised, that there was more to this than just a ransom attempt and territory grab. But hearing it spelled out made him absolutely terrified. This wasn’t just a kidnapping. This wasn’t because they were low hanging fruit on the McCall Pack’s family tree. This was revenge -- revenge against Derek.

Stiles swallowed, and suddenly he realised where he knew the man from. He saw the faint family resemblance to Meg. This man had been on the edge of the pack negotiation years ago. Stiles had been a little busy trying to hash out details, try not to look at Derek, and not glare at Meg to actually pay much attention to the other pack members. 

But Stiles’s vague memory of this man’s face was enough to let him draw a few conclusions.

“Then you know enough to let us go,” Stiles said, knowing full well that there wasn’t a chance in hell.

The man just laughed, Stiles had known crazy and he had known power mad. This man seemed to be calm and confident and more than a little psychotic. 

Henry let out a little choked sob and Stiles relented a little on his posturing.

Stiles yanked against the handcuff, almost involuntarily, desperate to hold his son, to comfort him. “He’s just a boy, please,” Stiles pleaded. 

“And I should care... why?” the man asked, holding out his hands and shrugging. He seemed to revel a little in the fact that his plans seemed to be unfolding perfectly.

Stiles tried not to shiver at the man’s nonchalant attitude towards kidnapping. Stiles searched his mind for the man’s name, to create some sort of intimacy. From what he knew, he didn’t think that reminding the man that Henry was his family would be helpful in this situation. There was no reason for this man not to hurt them. In fact Stiles was willing to bet the whole purpose of this was to hurt them.

“Because he’s just a child,” Stiles said. “He’s a boy born on the wrong side of the line. You don’t have to hurt him.”

Something flickered in the man’s eyes.

He reached behind his back and pulled out a gun and pointed it at Stiles. 

“Don’t,” Stiles said calmly and deliberately. His heart was beating a mile a minute and he was sure that it was clearly heard, but being shot in front of his son was not something that he could let happen. “Please. He’s just a boy.”

“Shut up,” the man said, his pleasant tone turning cold. With his other hand he pulled out a pocket knife he threw it towards Henry.

“Henry,” he said, not looking away from Stiles. “Use the knife to cut yourself out. If you use the knife for anything else I will shoot Stiles in the head.”

Henry turned to Stiles, his green eyes wide.

Stiles took deep, calming breaths, trying to lower his heart rate and project calm at Henry. 

“It’s okay, Henry,” Stiles said softly. “Pick up the knife.”

Stiles could feel the gun on his head, but he kept looking at Henry. Henry reached out for the knife, his hand didn’t shake a bit.

“That’s good,” Stiles said soothingly. “Open up the big knife.”

Henry’s little fingers fumbled with the knife. His face concentrated on opening the knife, but he couldn’t seem to pull it out. He looked up at Stiles with wild eyes.

“You can do it,” Stiles said. “Put your fingers around it, use your nails to dig in.”

Henry looked up at him.

Stiles nodded. “You can use those nails.”

Henry looked over at the man with the gun suspiciously. Henry knew better than to shift in front of strangers.

“Look at me Henry,” Stiles said. “Trust me.”

Henry looked down at the knife and concentrated on it, his nails came out and he pulled at the blade. Finally the long blade slipped out. Henry looked up at Stiles triumphantly.

“Good boy,” Stiles said with relief. “Now I need you to carefully put it between your leg and the rope. Make sure you angle the blade away from your skin.”

Stiles really didn’t want wolfsbane to get into Henry’s bloodstream. He had nothing, including his arms, to help his son right now.

Henry nodded and carefully put the knife against the ropes. He stopped, seemingly looking up at Stiles for more guidance. 

“Now carefully start to cut at the rope,” Stiles said soothingly. “Be Careful not to cut yourself.”

Henry nodded and went about the task.

Stiles watched, barely breathing as Henry sawed away at the rope. Because of his wolf heritage, Henry moved far more efficiently than a four-year-old should be able to. In a minute the rope dropped from his leg. He let out a sigh of relief and then looked up triumphantly at Stiles.

Stiles returned his gaze with pride. “Good boy, now do the other.”

Henry went about the task with much more confidence.

“Still be careful,” Stiles warned, but he watched Henry deftly cut the rope away from his leg. It was very quickly off. As soon as he was free he jumped up and ran to Stiles and threw his arms around his neck.

“Careful of the knife, buddy,” Stiles said, feeling the cool metal against his neck.

Henry pulled back and held the knife away.

“Give it to me,” the man growled, still pointing the gun at Stiles, but holding out his free hand for the knife. Stiles shifted to put himself between the muzzle and Henry who looked questioningly at Stiles.

Stiles nodded to him to give back the knife, and Henry threw the knife at the man. It nearly hit him in the shoulder, blade first.

“Henry,” Stiles chastised. “We don’t throw knives at men with guns.”

Henry looked at the man. The gun had been lowered and he was glaring at Stiles and Henry.

“We should,” Henry muttered.

Stiles turned to the man and tried to look at meek as possible.

“We’re sorry sir,” Stiles said. “Sometimes his manners are off.”

“I guess that is what happens when a rabid wolf and a pompous jackass raise a child,” the man said.

Henry growled and Stiles wrapped his legs around Henry as a way to keep him still.

“So, you’re a asshole werewolf kidnapper,” Stiles said, covering Henry’s ears at his swearing. Not that it would do any good, but it was a parental natural reaction. “Fabulous.”

“You’re far too smart to not remember who I am,” the man said.

“You’re far too arrogant to think I remember you,” Stiles replied.

“The boy can go back into ropes anytime,” the man said, brandishing the gun again.

Stiles swallowed his pride and squeezed Henry closer. 

“Thank you… Benny,” Stiles said, his captor’s name coming to him in a flash of adrenaline spiked inspiration. 

The man glared at him, his lip curling in a sneer. “Benjamin will be good enough.”

Stiles’s hands were already growing numb, his son was shaking in his lap and one of his closest friends was passed out a few yards away; Stiles glared back at Benny.

“Henry,” Benny said sweetly. “If you try to escape, if you are more than three steps from either one of them I will blow Stiles’s head off.”

Henry’s cheeks still had tear tracks, but he looked remarkably self-possessed as he gazed up at the man. He put his little arms around Stiles’s neck, without looking away from Benny. 

“Who are you?” Henry said calmly and with a little more politeness than the situation warranted. The father part of Stiles was proud, the part that was less mature was freaking out by the fact that his son could be this put together.

Benny grinned. “I’m your uncle. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together.”

Henry looked at him and his arms tightened around Stiles neck.

“No,” Henry said.

“Oh little one, we’ll have to work on that smart mouth of yours,” Benny said. “We’re going to go on a little road trip. We’ll learn to understand each other better.”

With the Benny turned and left the room and Henry buried his face in Stiles’s neck.

“Don’t let him take me,” Henry whispered.

Stiles swallowed. “I won’t. Your Dad will come get us. We just have to keep being okay. Your Dad and Scott will move heaven and earth to get us.”

Henry looked up at him. “Promise?”

“They will always come for us,” Stiles replied, smiling at him. 

Henry sniffed, but his gaze was very calm. There were no more tears. 

“What do we do?” Henry asked.

Stiles, blinked. He would never stop being amazed at his son’s resiliency.

“Can you go check on Lydia,” Stiles said. “She looks uncomfortable, we don’t want her to wake up and have another thing to be mad about.”

Henry gave him a smile and rushed to Lydia. He moved her a little so that all of her weight wasn’t on the joint of her shoulder. She remained dead to the world, but looked a little more comfortably arranged, her strawberry hair flowing on the ground.

“Henry,” Stiles said. “Come here.”

Henry startled, and keeping his eyes on Lydia, scurried over to Stiles. Stiles leaned down and whispered into his ear, trying to avoid any eavesdropping werewolves.

“See if she has bobby pins,” Stiles whispered. “She had some in her hair earlier.”

Henry’s eyes lit up, but then he looked at Lydia and looked at Stiles skeptically. 

“Please,” Stiles asked. “She’ll be okay with it.”

Henry took in a deep breath and went to Lydia. He reached into her hair and pulled out two bobby pins. Wordlessly he held it out to Stiles. Stiles realized the flaw in his logic. He couldn’t feel his hands enough to pick the lock behind himself and talking a four year old through lock picking when he couldn’t see what he was doing seemed to be an impossible task.

“Put them on the hem of your briefs,” Stiles whispered in his ear. “We’ll save them until I have hands.”

Henry nodded and then Lydia moved a little.

“Go make she she is okay,” Stiles said to Henry and he scurried over to her. In the back of his mind he tried to think of the next thing that Henry could do. He needed to keep Henry moving and doing things so Henry wouldn’t dwell on the facts of their situation.

“Lydia,” Henry whispered. “Are you okay?”

Lydia moved and slowly gain consciousness. Stiles watched her sit up and look at the handcuff, holding her to the pipe. She looked over at him. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out.

Her free hand went to her throat and she managed to get some sound out.

“I can’t,” Lydia croaked. “I can’t scream.”

Stiles stared at her, his mouth agape. She looked at him, her eyes wide and full of worry. Stiles hated that look on her. He didn’t realize how much he had been looking forward for her screams to call the cavalry in. It seemed though that everything had been taken into account, even Lydia’s well kept secret powers.

“It’s Meg’s brother,” Stiles said quietly. “He knows who we are, he knows really well.”

Henry sat down next to her. She reached out for him. She had just enough slack to awkwardly hold Henry.

“What’s the plan?” Lydia mouthed, a little sound of wheezing coming out.

Stiles just looked at her. She nodded and made a claw with her hand followed by a few more gestures.

In spite of himself and this whole situation, Stiles laughed.

“It’s a thought,” he laughed. “But I don’t think that the baby sign language we taught Dade has enough vocabulary to accurately describe this situation.”

Henry looked between the two of them, not quite knowing how to take their levity in this kind of situation.

Stiles smiled at him and Lydia ruffled his hair. 

“It’s okay, little man,” Stiles said. 

“Why am I wearing other people’s clothes?” Henry asked, his nose scrunching. “They smell bad.”

Stiles sighed and wished that he and Derek had agreed to fib a little to their children. He wished they had a agreed to tell them there was a Santa, that fairies were nice, and when they were kidnapped by clothes stealing relatives that he didn’t know what was going on.

“They’re masking our scent,” Stiles said.

Henry looked worried. “How will dad find us?”

“That’s why they’re doing it,” Stiles said.

The door to the room screeched open. “Your father’s boyfriend is smart,” Benny said coming back into the room. “But he isn’t that smart, little one. He’s only guessed half of it.”

Stiles glared.

“Or maybe he is smarter than that, but he lies to you,” Benny said with a grin.

Henry scowled, glaring daggers at Benny, and pressed himself closer to Lydia. 

“We’re taking your clothes, we’re rubbing it all over town,” Benny said. “We’re sending them in all directions. We’re going to get out of town and they’re going to be chasing their tails for weeks.”

Henry looked over at Stiles, his green eyes full of worry. Stiles didn’t even have to look up to know that Lydia’s eyes were full of the same fear he was feeling in his stomach.

They were very close to being totally fucked.

“Why?” Stiles asked. “Why would you do this?”

Benny looked at them as if they were simpletons. “Hale.”

“He didn’t do anything,” Stiles said, hoping he was pleading his case and not poking a bear. “Your family stole his sister.”

“He stole mine,” Benny growled.

“She made a choice,” Stiles said. “She chose her child, she was a person who got to choose her life and when you came at us she chose to protect her child. We didn’t brainwash her. Her son was more important.”

Lydia hissed and Stiles realized that he probably wasn’t in a good position to be arguing with Benny.

“Hale destroyed my family,” Benny said simply. “I’m going to destroy his, it is only fitting.”

Lydia coughed until everyone in the room was looking at her. She raised her hand.

“I’m not a Hale,” she managed to rasp, it was dry and looked painful.

Benny looked at her witheringly. “I’m pretty sure that you are. You all are rife with polygamy and pack incest. Who knows which couple is actually what.”

“I’m not hot enough for her,” Stiles volunteered.

Benny rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure that even if that was what she thought, your boyfriend would do.”

Stiles turned towards Lydia. “Have at him, see what happens.”

Lydia rolled her eyes.

“So there is no chance that Hale will think you and Lydia absconded with the child and decided to start over together instead of endure as you are?” Benny asked.

Stiles thought for a moment about lying, about saying that Derek wouldn’t care, but if he had done enough research to know enough to muzzle Lydia there really was no way that he’d believe a lie, even if Stiles could steady himself enough to tell one. Stiles didn’t really see the point, he didn’t know what the end game was.

“He’s going to find you and tear off your head,” Stiles told him.

Benny snorted. “The great peace bringer? Doubt it. However, I’m glad you told the truth or else I would have cut off one of the little one’s fingers just to make sure that Hale knew exactly what was going on.”

Stiles swallowed and looked over at Lydia. Henry was curled up next to her and she had a death grip on him. Stiles looked back at Benny. 

“Our pack is going to find us,” Stiles told him. “Derek is going to find us. When he does I pity you.”

Something in Stiles’s tone gave Benny pause and then he shrugged. 

A humming noise on the edge of Stiles’s hearing resolved into the sound of an engine approaching. Benny stepped forward and through the open door behind him Stiles could see a van backing into the ruined building.

The back door of the van swung open and a couple of heavy set, rough looking men in work clothes leapt out. “I wish them luck,” Benny said. 

Benny pulled his gun out again and aimed it at Stiles. “Either of you move I’ll shoot him in the head.”

Lydia locked eyes with Stiles. He nodded. The men came and unlocked Lydia’s handcuffs. She picked up Henry and the men lead them both to the van. Another walked round behind the pole Stiles was cuffed to, and he felt him take hold of his restraints. Stiles heard the click behind him and the tension in his arms was suddenly gone. His limbs tingled. He still couldn’t feel his arms, properly, but at least there was a moment of ease.

He brought his hands into his lap, shaking out his hands and shoulder as much as he could. They felt like lead weights.

Hauling himself slowly to his feet he glanced at Benny. “What did you do to Lydia?” he asked.

Benny raised an eyebrow. “Just paralyzed the vocal cords, a temporary thing. Don’t worry, we’ll be long out of earshot by the time she gets it back.”

The man who’d unlocked him dragged Stiles bodily to the van. Lydia was already handcuffed on one side with Henry next to her. Stiles was thrown in and he heard the click of his cuffs on one of the bars on the side.

Benny started to shut the door, but paused a moment.

“I know I’m going to die,” he said, looking at Stiles. “I’ve known that, if I showed my face, I was going to die. Ever since McCall and his pack came around all those years ago.” Benny’s eyes flashed red. “I’m just going to make Hale suffer as long as I can, first. And when he finally finds me, I hope I get to see his miserable as he stands over your bloody, empty bodies.”

Benny slammed the door shut on those gruesome words. 

There was a low blue light in the darkness coming from a bulb in the centre of the roof. Stiles looked over at Lydia and Henry. Their eyes were wide and luminous in the eerily lit room. Stiles didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know how to comfort them.

“I’m scared,” Henry finally said.

Stiles looked around the car. He really hoped that it was soundproof, but at this point if it wasn’t they didn’t have much to go on. He just had to hope that they wanted to insulate Lydia just in case.

“Wanna learn how to pick a lock?” Stiles asked, flexing his fingers. A slow throb had started to pierce through the numbness. He was fairly sure that he was going to be in some major agony soon.

But Henry brightened at the thought of learning something like that.

“Get the bobby pins,” Stiles said. 

“What’s the plan?” Lydia mouthed.

“Derek was Plan A,” Stiles said, wryly. “But after that delightful talk with Benny, we’re downgrading him to Plan J.” He flexed his fingers. “You’re going to mentally map us because you have the most amazing spacial memory. We need to know where we are going. Henry is going to help us get out of this and I’m going to come up with something so we’re alive long enough to make sure that you can use these lock picking skills for something far less productive.”

“Like if Dade puts me in them?” Henry asked.

“One day someone will put you in it and this is a skill that will come in most useful,” Stiles said. “Especially when your father comes home early with your kids and you have misplaced the key due to distraction.”

Lydia choked on her hoarse laughter.

Stiles looked at Henry. “You’re going to grow up, you’re going to become a teenager, and you’re going to hate me for sharing that piece of information. That’s a promise.”

Henry gave him a funny look, but the van began to move and he lurched, scrabbling to grab a hold of Lydia. Lydia closed her eyes.

“Grab the bobby pins,” Stiles said to Henry conspiratorially. “I’ll show you how to pick the lock and then we will have a plan to get away.”

***

Stiles rubbed his wrists. Teaching Henry to take locks had taken a long time, his little fingers were deft for a four-year-old, but he was still just a child. He’d managed it though. Stiles winced for almost half an hour as the feeling came back into his fingers. It was painful.

Lydia’s voice was coming back too, but after a few hours, when she could scream her head off, they were already too far out from Beacon Hills for anyone to hear. There was also the confirmation that the van was soundproof. He had asked Henry to listen to the men in the cab or their surroundings, but Henry wasn’t able to hear anything outside of the little box they were in. But that also meant the men couldn’t hear them.

When the cuffs had finally slipped off, Stiles had moaned in appreciation. He’d rubbed his wrists and kissed Henry on the temple.

“You are a genius,” Stiles told him. “Go show Lydia how smart you are. I’m sure she wants out of her cuffs too.”

Lydia cocked her head. “Life of crime starts young.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “Everybody is betting on it anyway.”

Henry used the bobby pins, his tongue between his teeth. Stiles eventually went over to him and talked him through it again. It only took him half an hour this time. By the time he was done Stiles could feel his hands again. He tousled Henry’s hair. 

“Good boy,” Lydia said, hugging him with both arms.

Henry looked proud and then looked around the van, his smile fading a little bit.

“What do we do now?” Henry asked.

Stiles looked at Lydia. Lydia shrugged. There wasn’t much to do in the back of a van.

“How is your Latin?” Lydia asked.

Henry’s face scrunched up. “I’m four.”

Lydia looked at Stiles and rolled his eyes. “It’s so good you have me. I’m going to teach you Latin.”

“Shouldn’t you be trying to map our trip?” Stiles asked.

Lydia looked at him disdainfully. “We’re going north. We just got off of I-5, probably onto 97 we’re headed towards Oregon. I can multitask.”

“Teach him Latin,” Stiles said, rubbing his temples, trying to absorb that information. “No need to teach him Archaic Latin, no need to traumatize him any further.”

“Your father wants you to be ordinary,” Lydia told Henry.

Henry smiled up at her, sweet and charming. His little green eyes alight with pride.

“My daddies say I’m special,” Henry informed her.

Lydia looked at him and that strange look pass over her face. She seemed to be seeing through him. Stiles stiffened as he saw her try to keep a happy look on her face.

“You are sweetie, you’re very special,” Lydia said softly before clearing her throat. “Now let me teach you some Latin.”

Stiles wanted to ask her what she saw.

But he didn’t want to say anything in front of Henry. 

He didn’t know if he wanted to know either.

***

“We’re getting off the highway,” Lydia said.

Stiles looked up, Henry was sleeping, curled up with him. 

“Where are we?” Stiles asked, sitting up. Henry slowly woke up. 

Lydia pressed her lips together and then spoke slowly. “I have no idea. I didn’t memorize every map of the northeast. I haven’t known where we were for the last hour.”

Stiles groaned. “Balls.”

“Balls!” Henry said, waking up completely.

The van began to go on a dirt road.

“This is going to go well,” Stiles muttered.

“Balls!” Henry said again.

Lydia looked at him for a minute. “Is Derek going to be mad that you taught him that?”

Stiles looked at Henry who was grinning at him.

“No, that is on our approved swear list,” Stiles said.

“Who made that?” Lydia asked.

Stiles shrugged. “I like lists.”

Lydia nodded. “Should we get back into cuffs?”

Stiles looked at the door as if there were going to be answers.

“We’re not escaping,” Stiles said, something sinking in his stomach. “We’re in the woods of Oregon. There is no way that we’re going to be able to hide from werewolves in the woods on unfamiliar ground.”

Lydia swallowed. 

Henry tugged on his sleeve. “I’m a werewolf, Daddy. I can help.”

Stiles picked up Henry and held him close as the truck came to a stop. Stiles stood up.

“We aren’t running, little man,” Stiles said as Lydia came to his side. “But we aren’t going to meet them tied up.”

Henry nodded. “Because we’re brave and good.”

Stiles grinned at him.

The doors were flung open and there were high beams on them. Stiles and Lydia didn’t flinch. They stared straight ahead.

“Well aren’t you the smartest,” they heard Benny say. “I heard you were good at picking locks. Feel free to run. We have seven werewolves and a coven of witches, it would be interesting to watch.”

Stiles swallowed. “You don’t want to hurt us.”

Benny laughed and it wasn’t a kind noise.

“That is untrue,” Benny said.

Stiles stifled a shiver. He had the feeling that he would be hurt quite a bit in the near future. There was a cocking of the gun.

“Guns are nasty things,” Benny said, coming in front of the lights. “We don’t usually use them. We have our weapons under our skin. Just waiting to tear away tender flesh, but getting this plan together I figured I should learn to use one. They strike more fear in you humans. Especially since you seem to be a bit callous about our claws.”

Stiles leveled his chin. “Happens when you are part of a pack.”

Benny laughed. “Your pack isn’t going to save you now. Step out of the van.”

Lydia grasped the back of Stiles’s arm. Henry laid his head on Stiles’s shoulder. Stiles took a step forward, taking them with him, out of the van. Stiles didn’t look around, but he took in the torches around them. There were seven bulked up figures and ten or so wispy figures. Werewolves and Witches surrounded him. Stiles was sure that they could all hear the jackrabbiting of his heart. Henry’s nails were clawing into him.

“Put the child down,” Benny commanded, the gun at his side.

Stiles swallowed, but he remembered what happened last time. He let Henry slide to the ground between him and Lydia. Henry’s arms stayed wrapped around him. Stiles kept his hand on his son’s head.

Benny just watched them, but he didn’t move forward. Instead two of the witches moved forward. The rest of the coven moved to circle Lydia and Stiles. The two figures coming forward had gold strips in their hands.

Lydia’s finger dug into Stiles’s arm, but neither of them shrunk away even as the man and the woman approached them. There was chanting all around them. Stiles wanted to close his eyes, wanted to run, but he held his ground. He stood tall and met it with his eyes open.

He hated himself for falling into this plan, for not fighting back. However he couldn’t see a way out. He couldn’t see a way to protect Henry except to keep breathing. He had to get through this because in the end someone would come for them.

He just had to keep his eyes open, looking, waiting, breathing.

He watched as the two witches put the gold straps around his neck and Lydia’s neck. In their hands the metal bent to form a perfect band. They were being collared as the witches chanted. There were herbs being burnt. The smoke stung Stiles’s eyes but he didn’t close them, couldn’t back down.

He kept breathing.

Lydia inhaled in sync with him. 

They were being collared under a spell. The metal warmed against his skin. Stiles felt it become part of him. He could feel escape leaving him, but he could also feel Henry’s arms around his legs. He held onto hope. 

And then he passed out.

**

When he came to he was back in the back of the van. Henry was curled up by Stiles’s side.

“I know you’re awake,” Benny said.

Stiles opened his eyes and held onto Henry. Lydia moved to kneel next to them. In some ways she looked like an avenging angel next to them, her collar glinting gold in the torchlight.

“What did you do to Henry?” Stiles said, sitting up.

“He got a little feisty after you passed out,” Benny said carelessly. “We put him down. He should sleep the rest of the way there.”

Stiles slipped away from Lydia and Henry and moved towards Benny. For a moment he didn’t care. Stiles got as far as the edge of the van before Benny clocked him, sending him flying back into the van. Stiles just lay there, trying to find his breath.

“You’ve been collared,” Benny said with far too much glee. “There are wards in this van. There will be wards at our final location. If you go beyond the wards your head will explode. If Lydia screams her head will explode. You have been warned. Please feel free to test your boundaries, as I know that you do. I think Henry there would love to be bathed in your brain matter.”

Stiles blinked and the doors were being slammed shut. The van came alive again and after a moment they started moving.

Stiles moved slowly, checking Henry. He seemed to be breathing deeply, just drugged. Stiles tried to push away his seething anger and figure this situation out.

“This doesn’t make sense,” Lydia whispered, her voice now completely back, now that her screams would most likely bring her death. 

“I know,” Stiles whispered back, touching the collar at his neck, the moment he touched the cold metal that seemed fused with his skin he felt dread come over his body. He dropped his hands. He was going to ignore it. 

He spoke, the collar cutting into his neck at every word. “This is far too well executed, to what? Hurt Derek? His family burned, his sister was killed, but kidnapping us to worry him? This is too well executed to be an elaborate suicide, we’re missing something.”

Lydia opened her mouth a few times before sound came out. “He could just be that stupid and emotionally backwards.”

Stiles shook his head. “It just doesn’t seem right.”

Lydia blinked and listened to the road and the sway of the van. Stiles just watched her for a second.

“We’re heading back south,” she said quietly. 

“Like home?” Stiles asked.

“In that direction,” Lydia said.

Stiles rubbed his temples.

“Facts,” Lydia said. “Let’s lay them out. Like we always do.”

“We have a computer with internet and paper with facts on it, plus a lack of a collar around our necks,” Stiles sighed, touching it. He had no idea if it would do what Benny said it would do, but it was incentive enough not to push this boundary.

“Lay it out,” Lydia said. “We’ll make a board. I can map it in my head.”

“Benny is an Alpha,” Stiles said. “I imagine when his father died he was next in line or he killed his father and he got to be the family Alpha. He’s been on the run for the last four years.

“And this took quite a bit of preparation, he’s apparently been plotting to get back at Derek,” Lydia added.

“But why?” Stiles said. “It was all of the pack, the handfasting, the revenge, even his mother’s death was all of us. Why would he target Derek.”

Lydia looked down at Henry.

Stiles thought for a moment. “Derek always said that Meg hated what her family was.”

“Maybe Benny liked it?” Lydia said. “Maybe he is in this for revenge.”

Stiles let out a bit of frustration and then looked back down at Henry.

Lydia’s eyes glazed and stared into space. “How do territories work?”

Stiles tried to follow her, but he came up with nothing.

“It’s the McCall pack, but it is still the Hale Territory,” Lydia prodded, rasping a little.

Stiles nodded slowly. “Yeah and all of the territory adjacent came to Henry when they omega-ed the other pack. We go and Derek and Henry run around a couple times a month to keep it scented, to keep it Henry’s.”

Lydia nodded. “So that isn’t Hale Territory, that is Henry Territory.”

Stiles looked at her, trying to figure out where she was going. He had a feeling that he wouldn’t be any pleased.

“Benny puts us on the territory, puts us in Henry’s land,” Lydia said. “Henry has an attachment to it, which is only going to intensify when we’re there. There is a good chance that he will stir up some aggravated feelings.”

Stiles looked up at her startled. Then he looked down at his sleeping son, dark hair in every direction, his chubby cheeks hiding the ridiculous cheekbones that he was sure that one day would appear. He looked back to Lydia.

She was staring at him, eyes wide as the pieces began to fall into place behind her eyes.

“Our pack is going to think that we’re going north,” Lydia said, eyes widening and not seeing what is in front of her. “They aren’t going to be in Beacon Hills. We’re going south. Henry has a territory. He’s going to make Henry very angry and probably use us to do it.”

“This sounds like a leap,” Stiles said.

“Stiles you’ve done nothing but leap your entire life,” Lydia said, the last coming out like a dry squeak. “Just because this is your kid doesn’t mean that you can stop.”

“This is ridiculous,” Stiles said. “Even if they put us on the territory, he’s four years old. What does he expect?”

Lydia looked at him, her eyes were a little glazed and she looked at Henry. She cocked her head and seemed to be listening.

“What do you know about feral werewolves,” Lydia asked in a far away voice.

“No,” Stiles said, pulling Henry to him.

“Benny is buying time,” Lydia rasped. 

“I said no,” Stiles told him.

“You and I don’t do ‘no’,” Lydia said. 

“He’s four,” Stiles said.

“Stiles,” Lydia said calmly. “I need you to focus. Tell me what you know about feral werewolves.”

Stiles closed his eyes and listened to the sound of Henry’s breathing as he slept.

“When a werewolf goes feral he loses touch with humanity,” Stiles said, reading from a bestiary he had long ago memorized. “Anger is usually the touchstone. Rage will overcome bringing the wolf to the surface. The creature is nothing but instinct. They are typically lone wolves, protecting their territory with a single mindedness and savagery.”

Stiles opened his eyes and looked at Lydia.

“Benny has a plan,” Lydia said.

“Henry is four,” Stiles said weakly.

“Cognitive therapy,” Lydia said, pushing on. “The worst that can happen. This is Benny’s plan and it works. You’re dead in this plan, so am I, likely what drives Henry to feral.”

Stiles blinked back the tears in his eyes and continued the thought. “Henry goes feral, ferals are always Omegas. He tries to protect his land, doesn’t let anyone near him. Kills anyone who comes onto his territory. Goes slowly feral mad and savage.”

Stiles stopped, he couldn’t speak through the lump in his throat. He held Henry tighter.

“They’ll try,” Stiles said, it sounded like a sob even to his ears.

“Worst case,” Lydia said with emotionless precision. “They put him down, tranqs at first, but has a feral werewolf ever recovered?”

Stiles tried to breathe around the lump in his throat. He shook his head.

Lydia continued on. “They’ll have to cage him, to keep people safe.”

Stiles tried not to choke on his words. “That isn’t the worst case Lydia.”

They both knew worst case would be death.

Lydia nodded, the look on her face trying to be detached. “If it’s Scott or Allison, Derek will never forgive them.”

“If it’s Derek,” Stiles said tonelessly beyond pain. “He’ll never forgive himself. I’m dead and he hates the world.”

Lydia nodded solemnly. “It’s the plan that makes the most sense.”

Stiles shook his head. “No Lydia, no you promised. They’ll be taken care of, in any situation they’ll be take care of.”

Then a thought caught him and he could feel the walls closing in on him. He could feel his chest tighten.

“Dade,” Stiles gasped. “Dade won’t even remember me in this situation. Henry will be a mindless animal, Dade won’t remember me, and Derek will have to deal with it all alone.”

His vision began to go fuzzy and he couldn’t breathe.

There was a slap that echoed through the metallic walls.

Stiles rubbed his cheek and looked up at her. She looked back at him with wide eyes.

“I think I liked the way you used to do that better,” Stiles said.

“Because kissing you would make this whole situation better,” Lydia said in commanding voice. “Hold it together Stilinski. We know the worst that can happen now. We’re going to stop it from happening, but I need you to hold it together.”

Stiles looked down at Henry. Four years ago Derek Hale had put the baby in his arms for safekeeping and that had begun their family.

“I’m not going to fail him now,” Stiles whispered.

***

“We’re just north of Beacon Hills,” Lydia whispered.

Stiles could feel the rumble of the tires. They had gotten off the main roads and were on the side dirt roads. 

“Do you know the roads? Where we are going?” Stiles whispered.

Lydia shook her head. “I know the preserve. I haven’t been to Henry’s land.”

Stiles nodded. “At least we know where here is.”

Lydia nodded. “And we know what is going on.”

“We think we know,” Stiles said with guarded caution.

“Stiles,” Lydia said superiorly. “Just because you don’t want something to be true doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t plan for it anyway.”

Stiles bit on the skin on his thumb and then looked up at Lydia hopelessly. “Lyds, he’s my kid.”

“He’s going to be okay,” Lydia said. “You have kept him safe and protected so far and with your life that is no small feat.”

“How are we going to get out of this Lydia?” Stiles asked. 

Lydia moved towards him, but didn’t touch him.

“We’re going to keep it together,” Lydia said calmly. “We’re going to keep our ears and our eyes open. We’re going to keep going until the opportunity presents itself and then we’re going to make our move. Now breathe out through your nose and in through your mouth. Inhale deeply and keep it together, Stilinski. You will not have a panic attack right now. I forbid it.”

Stiles was trying to breathe, but he began to laugh in the midst of his panic attack and he choked on the air in his throat. He giggled and wheezed and Lydia just rolled her eyes.

“You forbid it?” Stiles gasped.

“Yes, Stiles Stilinski,” Lydia said, trying not to smile. “I will not have you falling apart. We will figure out how to get these collars off and we will get Henry out of here. Perhaps we can do it without the last minute Derek Hale save? We really are better than that.”

Stiles nodded, but he was still gasping for air.

“Want me to do your part?” Lydia asked. “I can totally be you.”

Lydia’s face went slack and then she began speaking in a voice that Stiles hoped wasn’t him.

“But Derek is so dreamy when he busts in with his leather and growling,” Lydia said. “I love it when he comes and saves me from my latest screw up.”

Stiles laid back on the floor of the cab and blinked back tears. “This isn’t my screw up.”

Lydia laid back, staring at the metal ceiling. “I know.”

Stiles didn’t say anything, he just ran his hands through Henry’s hair.

“We’re the good guys,” Lydia said as the van came to a stop. “We always win.”

Stiles sat up and gathered Henry to him. “You only say that because it is what we’ve always lucked ourselves into not dying.”

“Don’t fail me now, Stilinski,” Lydia said.

“We can do this, we will do this, and stop calling me Stilinski,” Stiles sighed. “You just sound like Finstock.”

Lydia snorted. “He called you Bilinski.”

 

***

Stiles had been thrown into the cabin. He had watched as one of the coven that had come with them had said a few words. The wards had lit around the cabin. He watched as someone moved with a bag of dark ash and completed a circle around the house. A few of Benny’s men, apparently there were humans in his gang, moved across the line but Benny just stood on the far side, a pendant around his neck glowing, like the wards.

Benny grinned at him as one of the flunkies threw two bags into the cabin followed by a crate of water.

Stiles looked at the bags. He could see hard boiled eggs and power bars in them. Lydia was already up and moving around the cabin. Stiles stayed in his visual standoff with Benny, one hand on Henry’s head.

Benny didn’t move until all his minions had finished with whatever preparations we going on.

“You leave the cabin and pop goes your head or Lydia’s pretty red head,” Benny said with unconstrained glee. “It would be a shame, her head fits nicely with the rest of her, yours not so much, but feel free to try. Henry can get as far as the mountain ash if you want to let him go beyond your reach. Lydia yells and pop goes her head.”

“What do you want?” Stiles asked.

“I want you to play checkers or read whatever is in the house,” Benny said. “I’ll be back in thirty-four hours, we can talk more then.”

Stiles didn’t say anything, he just stared.

With that Benny left.

“There isn’t anything in here,” Lydia said. “Everything is soft. I haven’t found a nail out of place, I haven’t found anything hard in here. There are checkers and books and a bed with extremely questionable covers.”

Stiles took a second to look around the cabin. It was bare except for the items that Lydia had named.

“I don’t like how he said ‘talk’,” Stiles said quietly.

Lydia put a hand on Henry’s sleeping back.

“We’re going to keep our eyes open and wait for our opportunity,” Lydia said with sureness.

Stiles still couldn’t stop the shiver that went down his spine.

**

Stiles paced, he went over the room, every little piece.

Lydia sat on the floor with Henry, playing checkers and practicing their Latin.

“Daddy,” Henry said frowning at the board. “Lydia is cheating.”

Stiles looked over at Lydia. She just gave him a smile and a shrug.

“You’re the one who told me not to let him win,” Lydia said. “We don’t lie to the boys, Derek and Stiles rule number one.”

Henry sucked absentmindedly on a checker piece as he looked at the board, his fingers drumming on the floor. Stiles looked at his hand which was drumming on the wall next to him.

“The ADD seems to be hereditary,” Lydia commented.

“ADHD,” Stiles corrected as he saw a flash of movement outside. “And I’m pretty sure it isn’t something that you can catch.”

Henry had perked up, he was on high alert. Lydia stood up slowly.

“Werewolf science,” she said absentmindedly.

“Do we open the door for them?” Stiles asked.

“Would be rude not to,” Lydia said, taking one last look around for something, anything to use in their defense.

Stiles opened the door and stood there.

“Benny, how the hell are you?” Stiles said as two of the goons, apparently human stepped over the line. They had glowing pendants around their necks. “Been far too long. We’d offer you coffee, but you didn’t seem to provide us any. That is causing some pretty big headaches, quite literally for us.”

“Lydia,” Benny said, keeping his eyes on Stiles, but ignoring him. “Keep the boy with you, Stiles and I need to talk.”

Lydia pulled Henry to her.

“You don’t have to go,” Lydia said to Stiles, as she looked straight ahead.

“Oh, but he does,” Benny said. “He can walk out with my pack or we will drag him out.”

Stiles looked at her. Her eyes were wide as she looked around him. She shook her head and Stiles took a deep breath.

“Will my head stay on?” Stiles asked as the goons reached out for him.

“Maybe,” Benny said. “We were told if you stand near enough to those of us with wards that you would be fine. But if we were told wrongly, we still have her.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and walked out of the house, flanked by the two men. Stiles stepped forward and walked out of the house and over the line. Benny cracked his knuckles and then shook out his hands.

“Take his shirt off,” Benny said to the goons. They moved to Stiles and Stiles backed away.

“I’ll do it,” Stiles said through gritted teeth. “Rapey motherfuckers.”

Everyone glared at him. Stiles waited a minute to make sure that he wasn’t going to be manhandled. When nobody moved towards him, Stiles took off his shirt and held it out to the goons like they were his cabana boys.

Benny snorted. 

“Follow me,” Benny said.

“You know, non consensual isn’t really on my bucket list,” Stiles tried to quip. It came out a little panicked.

Benny snorted. “You flatter yourself.”

“Glad to see that you’re not a sexual psychopath,” Stiles said, feeling a lot relieved.

He didn’t even notice Benny’s fist flying at his face. Stiles was on the ground seeing stars with Benny looking over him.

“Nope,” Benny said pleasantly. “Just your garden variety psychopath.”

The goons hauled Stiles to his feet. He shook them off and walked forward. Stiles didn’t dare reach up to his throbbing cheek. He knew it was already swelling and that it was going to be a huge bruise.

Stiles followed Benny to the edge of the clearing. There was a little woodshed there. Stiles saw glinting metal in the little hut. He walked into the hut and it looked like a well equipped BSDM dungeon.

Stiles ground his teeth together. “Just what kind of talking are we going to do.”

Benny picked up a knife from the table. “The kind that will leave you black and blue and a little bloody.”

Stiles set his jaw and looked straight ahead.

“What do you think Derek would think to find your body with my name carved into it?” Benny asked. “Do you think he could ever touch you again without thinking about me? About Meg?”

He wasn’t smiling anymore.

Stiles tried to blink back the fear and the tears in his eyes. He looked straight ahead.

“Can Henry read?” Benny asked rhetorically. He sighed and threw the knife on the table. “I bed he can’t. It would be a waste to do the carving, because you’re not getting out of here alive.”

He picked up a rubber flogger. With a snap of his wrist he snapped it down on the table. It made a loud noise and Stiles jumped, despite trying to remain steely. There was a yell in the house. He could hear Lydia yelling and Henry crying.

“I’m okay,” Stiles yelled. “Stay in the house. Henry Horton Hale-Stilinski, you will stay with Lydia. I am okay.”

“I thought that you didn’t lie to him,” Benny said.

Stiles swallowed back the metallic taste of fear that was bubbling up. He looked at Benny.

“I didn’t,” Stiles said.

The flogger came down on his back.

Stiles prayed that he wasn’t lying.


	3. In the Cabin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry Stiles.

Stiles had made the guide on what to do about when one is being tortured. It was one of the manuals that all the betas had to read. It was actually passed around various packs. Stiles had a lot of admiration from surrounding packs with his instructional manuals. However Stiles didn’t really think that he’d have to use one, it was all mostly theory until this point. 

Stiles had plenty of time to practice his carefully worded outline of what to do when someone was torturing you. The secret to torture is to never think about something that you loved while you were in pain. There were two reasons. 

The first was that anything that the difference between the happy memory was such a good thing that it would make being pummeled feel even worse, if at all possible. Embracing happy memories would only make the reality agonizing, like remembering the big game in high school while you were a washed up unemployed deadbeat. You would notice the difference between then and now and depression would fill the void. 

The second was because you had hope that you were going to get out of the torture situation. If one thought about their happy memories while being tortured, if they ever got back to those happy memories they would always flash back to torture. Stiles held to the hope that he would see Derek again, so he never thought about Derek when Benny was trying to break him. He didn’t ever want to associate Derek with this.

Stiles succeeded in being strong and not thinking about his family and his pack while Benny tore at his resolve and his body.

At night he held to Henry and he held to the memories of Derek. He thought about Dade. Stiles wanted to see who Dade would become. Stiles had a feeling that Dade was going to be a never-ending source of amusement and exasperation.

The first couple of times it was fists and floggers. Stiles had been black and blue all over. Benny had been taken pictures and clucked about how much Derek was going to love them. Then they dislocated his shoulder and threw him in the house. 

He’d been roughed up before, but Benny had taken a surprising glee to torture. There was bruising and shallow cuts and then he was usually left in the sun or rain tied up. Eventually he would be thrown back into the house to have a few days to recover before it all started again. Benny never seemed to tire of this routine. 

It continued on and on.

Lydia had told them this morning that it had been five weeks.

Stiles was losing time. He was losing sense of the days. He was one big bruise. His face was swollen and his ribs were on fire and probably broken.

“Good times,” Stiles mumbled as he tried to walk between the big goons. They weren’t being careful and his arm was most definitely broken.

They didn’t say anything, they never did.

“We should do this again soon,” Benny said from behind him.

Stiles didn’t even move to look for him, his vision was already twisting under the pain.

“Don’t rush on my account,” Stiles said, seeing the front door come closer. “Really, I don’t mind if you take your time coming back.”

“You’d miss me,” Benny said coldly as they threw him through door.

Stiles tried to catch himself with his good hand and ended up using his face to stop his forward momentum. Henry and Lydia were on the floor on the far side. When Henry touched him he flinched and let out a moan.

Henry threw himself across the room.

“Henry, it’s okay,” Stiles said through clenched teeth as Henry touched him. The pain was agonizing and Stiles knew pain. He also was about ten seconds from throwing up.

Henry looked up at him through a tear-streaked face, he didn’t look like he believed that in the slightest.

“You are okay,” Stiles said.

“You aren’t,” Henry said quietly. “Why is he doing this?”

Stiles looked at Henry and touched his black hair. He really wished that he lied to Henry.

“He wants to make you mad,” Stiles said quietly. “He’s hurting me so you get mad, you know the Incredible Hulk?”

Henry nodded.

“When he get’s angry he changes into a big green rage monster,” Stiles said, trying to smile at Henry. “Benny wants to make you angry, he wants to make it so that you go feral. He think by hurting me it will make you angry enough to be just a wolf.”

Henry’s brow wrinkled in thought. “I am angry.”

Stiles nodded and blinked back tears. “I know, little man, but being angry just means that you’re scared. You don’t have to be scared. This isn’t over; there is nothing to be scared of. We’re going to be okay.”

“How?” Henry asked. “Dad isn’t coming.”

Stiles shook his head and this time his smile was real. “Yes he is. He always does.”

“Promise,” Henry asked, eyes wide.

“Promise,” Stiles nodded and suddenly realized that he wasn’t going to be able to hold onto consciousness much longer. “I’m going to take a little nap. Why don’t you take care of Lydia for a bit.”

Henry nodded, his face still didn’t look convinced. “Okay.”

Stiles closed his eyes and slipped into darkness.

**

Stiles woke up slowly. The first and overwhelming feeling that he had was the weight of his own body. He felt his arm throbbing with a pain that brought tears to his eyes. He felt it through and through. He felt the almost sureness that he wasn’t going to be able to take another hit, that he couldn’t do this any more. 

There was a stirring next to him, just the shudder of breath in sleep. Stiles could feel Henry curled up between him and the wall. That was enough to bring him back, to stop him from curling in on himself and wanting to die.

He opened his eyes and looked around the darkened room. He could make out Lydia’s red hair curled in a ball in the corner. Her shoulders were shaking.

“Lyds,” Stiles whispered.

She her head whipped up and she looked at him, wiping her eyes.

“I don’t know how you can do this,” she said, standing up, her bare feet barely making a sound. She came and rested her chin on the bed.

“Didn’t have anything else to do today,” Stiles said.

Lydia shook her head. “You were screaming today.”

Stiles felt his throat well up. He had always tried to be so quiet. It killed him to think that he had failed on that account.

Lydia’s eyes were luminous in the moonlight. “I wanted to run out there and beg them to shoot me in the head. Then you come in here and tell Henry that he can’t be angry, like you taught Gandhi the way of the world. You do all this and I don’t see death anywhere around you,”

Stiles breathed in, a little too deeply. It sent pangs of pain throughout his body. “Well I suppose that is a good thing.”

Lydia’s lip trembled.

“We are not dying here,” Stiles whispered. “You told me I had to stay strong. I couldn’t panic. Same goes for you. We’re going to believe in this.”

Lydia looked at Stiles in the moonlight. He knew he was beaten and raw. There were shallow cuts and there was hardly an inch of him that wasn’t an unnatural color.

“I know I’m not pretty,” Stiles said. “But I’m here.”

Lydia looked at him, eyes wide and luminous. She nodded, but there was no confidence in her look. Something in Stiles ached that she didn’t take the bait and tell him how he was never all that pretty.

“You said there was a contingency plan it was for the boys,” Stiles continued. “If we are killed Derek will have no one. We can’t die. I grew up with a parent who only had half, my father was a little more balanced before hand. If I die then what happens to Derek, what happens if the worst happens and Derek has to deal with all of it alone? What happens to Dade and my dad?”

Lydia’s face crumbled.

“What happens to you if I give up?” Stiles said. “You look like you’ve already given up.”

She reached out for his arm and touched him lightly. Stiles hissed.

“We don’t have anything hard to make a cast with,” Lydia said. “I have some foam strips and I have some blanket strips. I’ll bandage you.”

Stiles sat up gingerly. He tried not to jostle his aching body and Henry.

“Okay,” Stiles said. 

He watched as she gathered her supplies.

“You’ve been preparing long?” Stiles asked.

“You’ve been out for hours,” Lydia confirmed, coming over to the bed.

Stiles swallowed. “It’s probably going to hurt. I might make noise. Keep going unless I ask you to stop.”

Lydia looked at him and it looked like she was going to cry.

“My safe word is rutabaga,” Stiles said.

Lydia didn’t take the bait and make a comment about how much she didn’t want to know about Stiles’s love life. Stiles really wanted to break down, because he needed her to be Lydia.

Instead she gently took his arm and began to set it in the makeshift cast.

“You can talk to me, Lydia,” Stiles said quietly. “You can tell me anything. That is how you and I work.”

Lydia continued to wrap his arm, but she finally began speaking. She didn’t look up, but she sounded less haunted.

“I’m not used to being the little woman at home, waiting,” Lydia said quietly. “I’m not the damsel in distress.”

“I know,” Stiles replied. “You’re the one with the Molotov cocktails.”

“I sit in this room while they drag you out and I have nothing but checkers and Latin,” Lydia said quietly. “The two people who love me most in the world are in this room. I don’t know how to go on because I can’t do anything and the two of you are in danger. They brought you here to destroy you, I’m just collateral damage.”

Stiles just looked at her. “Lyds, you will never be collateral damage. It’s not like I’m doing anything except for taking hits. You being here is vital to me.”

Stiles hissed as she tightly wound his arm, but he kept talking. “You are vital to all of us. You’re Allison’s strength, her ability to do what is in her heart rather than what society or her family rules tells her is because of you. You are her backbone. We all need you, even Derek. Don’t even pretend that you two don’t talk almost everyday.”

Lydia smiled and continued working. “He’s really bad at computers, he has questions.”

“Don’t I know it,” Stiles said and then bit his lip as she wound around the worst of the break. “I think that Dade knows how to work them better.”

They both ignored the fact that his voice was cracking.

“He also complains about you,” Lydia added.

“Derek Hale lives to gruffly bitch,” Stiles said through gritted teeth. 

Lydia tied off the bandages.

“That he does,” Lydia said brushing off her hands. “But he also loves you something fierce, so do me a favor, don’t let anything happen to you or Henry.”

Stiles closed his eyes. He could feel the bruises on his face and on his body. He could feel the almost unbearable pain in his arm. 

“Tell me you don’t see death here,” Stiles said. “Tell me that he’ll come, that they’ll all come.”

Lydia pushed him gently down to the bed. “They’ll come for us.”

Stiles eyes cracked open, seeing her in the moonlight. “Because we’re family, because we’re pack, all of us.”

“That is what I think every night,” Lydia whispered. “I listen to you two sleep and I know that wherever I go, this will be my home. You two, this little section of California will always be here and always welcome me, no matter what the world throws at me. Backstabbing colleagues and psycho relatives, I will always come home to Beacon Hills.”

Stiles smiled at her.

“What do you think about every night?” Lydia asked. “You always seem content.”

Stiles bit his lip as he looked at his arm. 

“It makes you happy,” Lydia said. “Share the happy thoughts.”

““Promise not to think less of me?” Stiles said, feeling the calm of his memory flow into him.

“Far too late for that,” Lydia replied.

Relief rushed through Stiles as they fell into their old cadence.

“I think about how I’m an idiot for not saying yes to Derek,” Stiles said quietly. 

Lydia looked up at him with a little grin. “You really are, but that is your happy place?”

“It’s more than that,” Stiles said quietly. “It’s a big house full of kids and eventually grandkids. It’s that ever after.”

Lydia snorted. “Let me get this straight. You fall asleep every night to the thought of your big fluffy white werewolf wedding.”

“Every night,” Stiles told her

“I’m going plan it,” Lydia said crawling into bed with him and Henry. “You and Derek would be hopeless and probably have carnations and baby’s breath.

“Of course you are,” Stiles said closing his eyes. “How else are we going to get something tasteful?”

“Fall wedding with red and gold?” Lydia asked sleepily.

“I was thinking spring with green,” Stiles offered. 

“Of course,” Lydia murmured. “Always trying to bring out Derek’s eyes.”

“Hmmm, Derek eyes,” Stiles sighed.

Lydia’s breathing evened out. “I can get on board with your happy place. I’m there you know, making sure you don’t screw up spoiling your grandkids.”

Stiles felt the sting of tears. “We’re going to keep going, we have years of living to do.”

**

Stiles spent two days barely able to move. The pain was excruciating. He was having trouble sleeping, he hadn’t been able to keep anything down. He lay on the bed shivering.

On the third day Benny and his goons showed up. Stiles could barely make it to sitting position without nearly passing out. He couldn’t bear it.

Lydia went to the door, Henry shadowing her.

“Not him,” Lydia said. “Not today.”

The goons looked back at Benny through the open door. He looked straight at Henry.

“Take me,” Lydia said standing tall.

“No,” Stiles said weakly from the bed.

Lydia stood tall and composed. “Take me today.”

Henry wrapped his arms around her. “No Lydia.”

Lydia held up her hand to Benny. “I’ll be right with you.”

She picked up Henry and carried him to Stiles. She placed Henry down gently on the bed.

“Stiles is going to tell you stories today,” Lydia told him. “Have him tell you about the time we were caught in the school. I was awesome.”

Stiles looked up at her and shook his head. She soothed his hair and kissed him on the forehead.

“You don’t have to,” Stiles said. “Please don’t.”

“You can’t,” Lydia said. “And I have to do something.”

Stiles pulled back and looked at her, looked at the pain on her face.

“You stubborn idiot,” Lydia whispered. “You’re not alone.”

“He’s going to hurt you,” Stiles said.

“Let me take a few blows,” Lydia said. “We’ll be home soon.”

Stiles saw the determination in her face, saw the hope that was in her eyes. He tried to get up, but he couldn’t even get vertical without nearly passing out. He knew that he wasn’t up to it. He wouldn’t be able to take much more. He looked over at Henry. His large eyes were wide.

“Think about something mundane,” Stiles whispered. “Think about something you don’t like.”

“I’ll think about camping and Peter Hale,” Lydia replied. “I know how to do this Stiles. I taught you.”

Lydia turned to Henry. “Stay with your Daddy.”

Henry started to cry and Lydia got up. She stood straight and marched out the door.

Tears still streamed down Henry’s face, but his eyebrows and forehead took on a pensive look. Stiles had seen that look too many times.

“Why not me?” Henry asked petulantly. “Why you?”

He didn’t sound like a small little boy. The voice was raw and angry.

“They want to hurt me,” Henry said. “Why you and Lydia?”

Stiles couldn’t even move his arms to hold his son.

“Henry breathe,” Stiles said calmly. “Don’t think with your anger. Don’t think with revenge or hate. Think about your brother, he is going to need you. You’re his big brother and he’s so little.”

Henry still was pouting, his face was scrunched up in a four-year-old temper tantrum.

“I don’t wanna,” he said, small fists pounding the bed and making Stiles wince. “I don’t have an older brother, I’m fine. I want them to not hurt you.”

Henry’s eyes flared gold and his teeth began to grow.

“Henry Horton Hale-Stilinski,” Stiles said through clenched teeth. “You will not turn in anger. You will not do this. Calm down right now.”

Henry’s face crumpled and he threw himself on the bed. Stiles nearly blacked out with the pain from the vibrations, but he took his good arm and held Henry to him.

“Think about your father, think about your brother,” Stiles said. “Think about Scott and Isaac. Think about Allison and the new baby that you need to meet. Think about your grandfather’s face every time he sees you. Your dad always tells your power is in your family, in our pack. Don’t you dare give up on them.”

Stiles started talking to him, telling him all the thoughts in his head, all the things that he clung to, all the hope that he had.

He told Henry happy moment, that he couldn’t even feel as real any more. Stiles wanted to believe in it. He didn’t want Henry to feel the rage that he was beginning to see in his son’s face.

Stiles talked and tried to ignore the sounds outside, sounds he knew that Henry could hear all the more clearly. Those were the sounds that Henry and Lydia had been hearing for weeks. Stiles understood why they were going a little crazy. Lydia didn’t let out a single scream, but there was the snap of the flogger on skin.

Being the one stuck in the room was its own kind of special torture. Stiles didn’t know how the two of them had stood it.

The sun was setting in the windows when she was thrown into the room. She pushed herself up shakily and looked at their retreating forms.

“Thanks for the nice time,” she said and stood up.

Bruises were blooming on her face, her lip was split, and she was cradling her hand. She gave Henry a smile.

“No biggie, little man,” she said.

Stiles could tell that she didn’t mean it, but he loved her all the more for pretending. She sat up, obviously in pain and not using her hand and told Henry to set up the checkerboard.

While Henry’s back was turned Lydia looked to Stiles and closed her eyes in pain.

‘I hope they get here soon,’ she mouthed.

“Anything broken?” Stiles asked.

“Sprained wrist,” Lydia told him. “That out there was nothing I haven’t gone through in cheerleading camp.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “I had forgotten about the junior high cheerleading phase.”

“Apparently it is good training for werewolf kidnapping,” Lydia said as Henry came back to her.

Henry wrinkled his nose. “Do I have to cheerleader?”

Lydia looked over at Stiles.

He thought for a moment. “We really try to not impose gender norms on them.”

“Stop trying to be a politically correct parent,” Lydia snapped. “No child should have to go through the cesspool of the world of cheerleading or beauty pageants.”

“No tiara, buddy,” Stiles told Henry. “Lydia says so.”

“Wanna play checkers, Daddy?” Henry asked, apparently not caring a bit about cheerleading and beauty pageants.

Stiles sat up and nearly threw up. He closed his eyes.

“Do we have water left?” Stiles said through the nausea.

Henry looked over to the meager stash of apples, eggs, power bars. His face scrunched up.

“A little,” Henry said, running to get it. He brought it to Stiles.

“Bring it to Lydia,” Stiles said, looking at the half full bottle.

Lydia sat on the bed. “Maybe give me a minute before we play?”

Stiles watched her. She didn’t seem to be faring any better than he was.

He closed his eyes. He wished he was the praying type. He wished that he was the type of person who believed in a higher power. He wasn’t. He believed in pack and he believed in family.

He sent up a word to his mother, wherever she was he hoped that she would be there, that she would help him.

He opened his eyes and it was just the room, just the same thing. Stiles moved over and gave Lydia room on the bed. Henry hovered over them, but didn’t touch.

“Daddy told me about the time he rammed his jeep into the wall,” Henry began.

Stiles went and tried to drag himself to the food. 

“Oh did he,” Lydia asked, eyes popping open.

Henry began retelling the story with Lydia interjecting pieces that Stiles had gotten differently from her memory. Stiles lay there listening to them talk.

Henry perked up, he seemed to be listening to something. Stiles looked towards the window as if he could sense it.

“Is it Benny?” Stiles asked. Henry moved to the window and shook his head. 

“There is another wolf in the woods, it sounds different,” Henry said. His eyes were glinting a little in the moonlight.

The hairs on the back of Stiles’s neck bristled. This was still Henry’s territory and his son was getting possessive over it. Henry was breaking a little.

“Stiles there is someone else out there,” Lydia said. “Someone else who isn’t Benny or a goon.”

Then there was a noise that Stiles could hear. There was a loud howl going through the woods. Stiles perked up. The sound was long and held and absolutely soul crushing. Stiles felt tears start to form in his eyes and he couldn't really say why.

“Someone’s here,” Stiles said with relief. He had no idea of how to alert anyone of their position short of burning down the cabin, which would pose a problem, but someone was out there, they weren’t alone.

Lydia looked out the window, she had a small smile and a look of relief on her face.

"It's Derek," she whispered.

“Dad,” Henry said, scrambling to peer into the night.

Stiles just looked at her, not wanting to hope. "How can you tell? I know his howls. That doesn’t sound like him. It sounds like some kind of broken wolf."

Henry looked at Lydia.

Lydia nodded. "For a week after you brought a date to his hand fasting there were sounds like that in the woods. You’ve never heard it because he only makes it when you are gone."

Stiles said perking up, listening to the wailings again and he turned towards Lydia. "Are you sure?" 

She nodded. “Those of us who were occasionally in town after his hand fasting would hear it. It is him. I heard it for weeks. He really was miserable with Meg.” 

“I thought he would be in Alaska looking for us,” Stiles remarked, trying not to grin. It hurt his face.

Lydia gave him a skeptical look. “Derek? He probably was all growling and not helping the progress. Besides, do you think that he would leave Dade home for very long?”

Stiles felt momentary relief. "Oh my dear sweet emo wolf. Of course, of course you would go run through your son’s land and hide your misery from the world. Don’t ever change.”

Then his face fell. “How do we tell him? How do we get him here. There are hundreds of acres. Lydia, how do we get him here.”

Lydia just smiled and motioned towards Henry.

Stiles looked at his son. He had heard him growl before, but never bellow over miles.

“Big man, we need you to do something for us,” Stiles said, reaching out to Henry. “You have to call your dad, we need you to howl as loudly as possible. Do you think you can do it?”

Henry thought about it for a second and then nodded. “Course.”

He took a deep breath and concentrated for a second. The noise that came out was something Stiles could barely believe came from such a small creature.

Lydia smiled at Stiles. “Stop worrying Derek will know, he will recognize his child’s cry.”

Her face was bruised and her hair had long since passed into a mess, but she looked every inch the princess she had declared herself to be when they were in the kindergarten sandbox.

Stiles swallowed. He knew that he knew the way that his father walked; he never even had to look up to know that his father was there. It was something he didn’t even think about. Stiles was sure that Derek would know.

Henry’s call rang out through the hills. Stiles knew that it would probably bring Benny, but Derek would be there as fast as his legs could carry them. They just had to hold on and hope that Derek would get here before Benny’s goons.

“Do we have weapon,” Stiles said looking around.

“Nope,” Lydia said. “Just like the last time we tried to figure out how to jailbreak this place.”

“I’m disappointed in our shiv making abilities,” Stiles said, feeling light headed with hope. He still was aching, but adrenaline was giving him the strength to sit up.

“Let’s go sit in the doorway,” Stiles said, moving gingerly off the bed. “I’m dying to see who gets here first.”

Together they pathetically walked the few yards to the door, Henry bounding around them.

“You stay in the house,” Stiles instructed.

Henry was nervously peering out the door. “Where is Dad?”

Lydia looked relaxed and leaned against the doorframe. They sat in the doorway and waited, Lydia’s head rested on Stiles’s shoulder.

“Please make it Derek,” Stiles whispered up to his mother.

Stiles was gnawing on his already bloody cuticles when Derek Hale came bursting out of the trees. He was in full beta form, wearing nothing but tight black pants.

“Daddy!” Henry said, running out of the house to the edge of the mountain ash line,

Derek’s blue eyes were blazing. He came to an abrupt stop at the edge of the circle.

“Mountain Ash,” Stiles said and Derek’s looked at him. Derek’s eyes looked like a he had just found a lost city of gold. He seemed to take them in bumps and bruises. Stiles was sure that Derek could readily see the gold rings around their necks, Stiles had nearly forgotten they were there. 

Lydia was already talking to explain. “We have witches charms. We can’t leave the house, unless there is this talisman that Benny and his goons have around their neck.”

Derek just looked at them. He took a deep breath and Stiles knew that he could smell blood and scabs.

“Are you really here?” Stiles asked, still feeling dazed, full of adrenaline and nausea.

Derek nodded. “Are you okay?

Stiles nearly laughed at the absurdity of the situation. There was no way that Derek expected that to be answered in the affirmative.

“Henry is fine,” Stiles assured him.

“Daddy knew you were coming Dad,” Henry said. “He kept saying you would be here.”

A heartbreaking look passed over Derek’s face, almost too quick to see.

Stiles looked at Derek, over Derek’s half naked body. On a normal day half-naked Derek was a fantasy that Stiles was thrilled to have. Today the sight of Derek was like being shocked with electricity. Stiles knew that he was shaking and that he was probably four seconds from keeling over, but Derek was here.

“We’re good,” Stiles said a little breathlessly. Derek took a step forward and ran into the mountain ash line again. He looked at the distance between the house and the line and then slammed his hand uselessly against the barrier.

“Benny’s probably on his way, we need you to call in reinforcements,” Lydia said with a sigh. “Googly eyes can wait.”

Derek pulled his phone out of his pants pockets, never looking away from Stiles.

“I found them,” Derek said. “We’re on the north side of Henry’s territory. I’ve turned my GPS on. Get up here now. We’re still in some major trouble. Bring the arsenal, the law, and medical. I can’t tell you how much to hurry.”

Derek hung up the phone and shifted back into his human form. His eyes were wide and he couldn’t stop looking from Henry to Stiles. Finally he swallowed.

“Lydia, keeping them in line?” Derek asked.

“You know it,” Lydia said. “Henry is pretty well versed in Latin.”

Derek blinked repeatedly and nodded. He crouched down and got on eye level with Henry.

“Was Lydia good to you?” Derek asked.

Henry’s little eyebrows drew together. “She beat me at checkers, a lot. I don’t like playing with her.”

Derek nodded. “Nobody does, we play with her because it makes her happy and we all hope that one day we’ll beat her.”

Henry smiled. “Because we don’t give up.”

Derek gave him a smile, but it looked more like he wanted to cry.

“Family motto, big man,” Derek said.

Stiles wanted to go to him, wanted to touch him. Derek looked up at Stiles.

“I love you,” Stiles blurted out, because he just had to make sure that the last words between them weren’t about how Derek would be going on a vacation if Stiles ran away with Lydia.

The edge of Derek’s mouth quirked.

“If you say ‘I know’ I’m running out of this house and pray my head explodes,” Lydia said.

Both Derek and Stiles grinned. In the yard Henry looked between them, he bounced on his feet.

“So this is Benny?” Derek asked.

“Is he my uncle?” Henry asked.

Derek shook his head. “He’s your mother’s brother. Scott is your uncle, Isaac is your uncle, they’re your family.”

Henry sniffled a little. “Are Scott and Isaac coming?”

Derek’s face crumpled a little. “They’re looking for you in Washington right now. They can’t be here soon.”

Henry looked like he was going to cry. “It’s going to be too late.”

Derek shook his head. “No it’s not, you have more family. You have family that can get past the mountain ash.”

“Allison is coming? She’s pregnant,” Lydia said scandalized.

Derek looked guilty.

“Four months,” Stiles said. “You guys are the most overprotective--”

“Washington!” Lydia said.

Everyone turned to look at her.

“Throw me your phone,” Lydia said excitedly.

Derek looked at her as if he could read her plan.

“Derek, we gave up on following where her mind goes long ago,” Stiles said.

Derek held up his phone.

“I have a bad hand,” Lydia said. “Be gentle.”

Derek tossed it to her and she caught it flawlessly. He nodded with approval. She pressed a few buttons and put the call through.

“Scott, it’s Lydia,” She said, tossing her scraggly hair over her shoulder. “We’ll have time for all those thing and questions and everything later. Right now I need you and Isaac to do something and I need you to do it right now, no questions.”

Lydia started talking and orchestrating a plan.

Stiles grinned and turned to Derek. “She’s going to get them to go find the witches so we can get these things off our necks and maybe leave this cabin.”

“I got that,” Derek said raising an eyebrow. He still was still tracking Stiles and Henry. “Does someone patrol the area? Should we be expecting company?”

Stiles looked at Lydia who was engrossed in the phone conversation, apparently telling Scott and Isaac the location of the witches. Stiles was at a loss about the patrols. He didn’t have a clue; he was usually in too much pain to notice.

“Yes Dad,” Henry piped up. “There usually is three checks a night.”

Derek smiled at Henry, and then shot a glance at Stiles. After a brief scan, Derek began speaking far too evenly. “Stiles. How hurt are you?”

Stiles swallowed. 

Lydia hung up the phone and looked at Derek. “I’m not a medical doctor, but he’s doing really sucky. To be honest he’s pretty much putting on his weight on me.”

Derek’s look intensified. 

“Traitor,” Stiles muttered, looking at his hands. His vision was blurred; he really didn’t want to see Derek looking at him anyway, not like that.

“Melissa is coming,” Derek said. “Everyone is coming, just hold on. You’ve held on this long, just a little bit longer.”

“You’re here,” Stiles said, trying to breathe through the pain.

“Just a little bit longer,” Derek promised.

“I see where you get it from,” Lydia muttered.

Stiles felt tears prick at the corner of his eyes.

“Henry get into the house,” Derek said, his voice still holding the Alpha tinge he could never let go of

Stiles risked upsetting his stomach and looked up. Derek was wolfed out. Henry still stood in the yard. He had wolfed out to, just like his dad. 

“It’s a wolf,” Henry said through his teeth. “He can’t get in. I need to protect Daddy.”

Derek looked like he was torn between being so proud of his son and wanting him to be in the house.

There wasn’t time for Derek to decide which way he wanted Henry to go, a beta almost silently came through the woods. Derek growled at him. The goon, one of the ones who faithfully had taken Stiles to the torture shed, faced off against Derek.

Stiles clenched his fists before groaning in pain.

Derek looked over briefly at Stiles. Stiles was sure that he could feel the stutter of his heart. Stiles looked at Henry, there was a moment when he considered what he should do in front of his son.

“That is one of the guys who would take Stiles,” Henry said. “He’s a bad guy.”

Derek threw a fist at the goon and he landed flat on his back.

“You tell me,” Derek said to Stiles, not taking his eyes from the beta. The beta sprang to feet. Neither one of them wanted Henry to see Derek attack the wolf, but neither were too keen on him living.

“There is a shed a few yards over there,” Stiles said pointing with his good hand. “Take him there and do what I always used to say we should do to evil things, you’ll find plenty in there to help.”

Derek nodded and turned towards the goon and Stiles swore that he got even bigger. Derek let out a roar and the goon had the good sense to look a little nervous.

“Henry,” Lydia said. “Come here. I have a secret way you can protect us and I don’t want anyone to hear it.”

Stiles looked at her gratefully as Henry turned his back on his father and ran to them. Lydia whispered in Henry’s ear something to the extent of ‘throw sand in their eyes’, she made it sound better, but as he listened to her he wasn’t watching Derek beat the goon and drag him into the shed.

When Lydia was done talking Henry ran to the mountain ash line again and waited for Derek to return. When he did Derek looked angry and a little green in the moonlight. His eyes glowed white blue.

Stiles lifted his head and met his gaze. Stiles knew he would never be able to say what happened to him. Showing was enough, now Derek knew all he needed to know.

“That is where you went?” Derek said, his voice on the edge of a growl. “That is what caused that.”

“Yes,” Stiles answered, looking straight at Derek.

A growl escaped his throat.

“You’re here,” Stiles said, his voice cracking. “We’re going home.”

Derek looked like he was trying to keep all of his emotion in lest he rage apart.

“Just a few more minutes,” Lydia said hoarsely. “But you have to get your head into the game.”

“How many?” Derek asked, his voice less than human.

Stiles felt woozy again. He didn’t know, he hadn’t been able to keep count.

“Good boy,” Lydia replied to Derek. “Stay focused. There are fifteen.”

“How many of them are wolves?” Derek said, beginning to pace.

“Ten,” Henry replied.

“And two witches,” Lydia replied.

“Three humans?” Derek asked.

Stiles felt his head swimming. He felt useless, after days of just taking the brunt of Benny’s anger he felt like he had nothing left he had to do. He could feel exhaustion and pain coming to claim him.

“Lydia,” Derek growled and hissed. “He’s passing out. Do not let him pass out.”

“If your naked torso can’t keep him conscious then what the hell do you think I can do?” Lydia said, panic creeping into his voice.

“Stiles,” Derek said, his voice taking on something soothing.

Stiles felt himself waking up. He waved his good hand in Lydia’s general direction. “He’s using sexy voice. He wants something.”

Lydia gently poked gently at him. “You should see what that is.”

“Stiles,” Derek said like honey over gravel. “We’re going to have guests in fifteen minutes. I need you to tell me the weaknesses of the people who are coming up here so that way when your father and Melissa come up here they are okay.”

Stiles fought his way to consciousness and looked at Derek. He was still wolfed out, but there was something vulnerable about him.

“You’re bringing my father here?” Stiles accused.

“Do you think I can keep him away?” Derek said. “You can fight me over it or you can help me fight.”

“Derek needs all the help that he can get,” Lydia remarked.

Stiles snickered and tried to stay coherent. “He’s going to tear their teeth out with his neck.”

“Stiles focus,” Derek said. “What is Benny’s weakness?”

Stiles sat up best he could. “He hits like a sheltered trust fund child. He likes to use other things to fight with.”

“He likes guns,” Henry volunteered.

Rage rippled through Derek but he kept talking calmly. “Good, good. What about the rest of his pack.”

“Tall blonde shaggy hair hits like a mac truck,” Stiles said focusing on Derek. “Medium sized guy with an unfortunate mullet is spry and can move fast, and you’re so hot.”

Lydia reached a hand to steady Stiles; he didn’t even realize that he was shaking.

“The mullet guy likes to sneak up on you,” Lydia added. “He likes the tender spots.”

“Good,” Derek said as he ground his teeth, he didn’t sound like he meant good, but he kept them talking, getting information.

It was twelve minutes when he held up his hand.

Stiles was awake enough to see. He was ashamed at the fear that coursed through his body at the impending arrival of Benny’s crew.

“Don’t die,” Stiles whispered. “Please don’t die. We have too many years of things we need to see.”

And that is when Benny and his lackeys came tearing out of the underbrush.

“Oh the reunion,” Benny said with all the arch of a villain. “I was really hoping to kill them first. Oh well, you’ll just have to watch.”

Stiles felt a little surge of adrenaline, enough to keep him lucid.

“Henry come here,” Stiles said.

Henry didn’t move.

Derek steadied himself, watching the betas come out of the woods. He was preparing himself for battle. Benny carelessly took out his gun.

“I could shoot your little human,” Benny offered. “Anytime I want, I can shoot him and there isn’t a thing you can do about it.”

Henry was growling, his eyes a ferocious yellow. Benny turned and smiled at the child. Stiles could feel Lydia trying to pull him into the house, but his body wouldn’t cooperate. He couldn’t leave his family out there.

“Henry,” Stiles said as Lydia pushed him back.

Derek snarled at Benny, teeth shining in the moonlight. Benny’s gun focused on Henry.

“Get in the house,” Derek growled.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Benny advised.

“Henry,” Lydia said, standing up. “Come here, come with your Daddy and I.”

Stiles was half in the house, Lydia was pushing him back. He wouldn’t give up his fight to get to Henry. Lydia bit her lip and then squeezed his injured arm. Stiles crumpled with a muffled moan.

“Stay down,” Lydia said and turned to the stand off, she put her arms out.

“Henry, baby, please come,” she said.

Henry looked at her and smiled. “It’s okay Lydia, he won’t hurt me.”

Lydia put her hand to her mouth and Derek growled.

“It’s a gun, Henry,” Lydia said.

Henry turned towards Benny and walked forward. “Bullets can’t hurt me.”

Benny grinned and pulled out a knife. He held it a little bit gingerly. It was the way that all wolves looked when they were handling something with wolfsbane.

“But this can,” he said.

Derek took a step forward and Benny pulled back his arm to throw the knife. The swoosh of an arrow hit his arm and the knife clattered into the circle around the house, landing at Henry’s feet.

Allison stepped out of the woods, flanked by her father. Her slightly rounded belly clad in dark tights. She didn’t give an inch.

Derek noticed her and turned to move on Benny.

Henry was faster. He scrambled to grab the fallen knife. With a deftness that was born out of adrenaline rather than any skill he threw the knife at Benny. Benny’s goons burst from the other side of the woods from Allison and Chris. Allison moved forward to grab Henry, Chris covering her with fire. She scuffed line Mountain ash line and ran full speed to the cabin. 

Derek turned to the intruders and went on them with full wolf force. 

Allison carried Henry into the cabin and threw him at Lydia. Allison took partial shelter and aimed her arrow out the door. 

Stiles turned on the floor, he had to watch, he had to know.

He saw Derek take on five of the wolves as Chris was shooting to keep the others at bay. Allison was taking careful aim, helping Derek when she got a clean shot. Stiles just watched Derek, fangs and claws as he ripped through the bodies that had kept them apart.

Stiles lay there watching. He couldn’t do anything but wait.

“It’s a battlefield out there,” Lydia shuttered.

“Will Derek be okay?” Stiles asked.

“I can’t tell,” Lydia said. “Everything is wrapped around each other.”

She moved behind him. Vaguely Stiles could hear her talking to Henry, he could hear Henry crying, but he couldn’t move, he couldn’t do anything but watch. He didn’t even flinch as he saw claws dig into Derek’s flesh and then Derek swipe back, nearly decapitating his opponent.

“Incoming,” Chris yelled to Allison. 

Allison moved from the doorway and into the melee. Stiles wanted to call her back, wanted to tell her that it wasn’t good for the baby, but he caught a glimpse of his father and he nearly choked. This situation wasn’t good for any of them. His father was there with a shotgun, shepherding Melissa to the cabin. Melissa had a bat.

Stiles’s eyes snapped back to the fighting. Derek was winning. He was still outnumbered, but Chris and Allison were evening the odds. There was yelling and screaming and behind him Henry was crying and Lydia was soothing him. 

Everything felt fractured.

And then Melissa and his father were in the cabin.

“Be gentle with him,” Lydia said over the din.

Both Melissa and his father just looked at him. The looks on their faces showed him that Derek had been kind in his lack of reaction. They both looked like they had been slapped.

Melissa knelt by his side and plopped a bag by his head.

He could hear her talking and cutting his disgusting shirt off of him.

She gasped.

“That bad?” Stiles asked, feeling light headed and hysterical.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Melissa said.

“You’re a nurse,” Lydia chastised. “Start there.”

Melissa put her hand to Stiles’s head.

“How long has he had a fever?” Melissa asked, her voice all business.

Stiles laughed. He didn’t even realize he had one.

“A week,” Lydia admitted. “There are marks on his back that are infected and they broke his arm three days ago. We have been underfed and probably are dehydrated.”

Melissa lightly touched his ribs. Stiles let out a sad moan.

“Is he coughing up blood?” Melissa asked.

“I don’t know,” Lydia said in a small voice.

“No,” Stiles said.

“Stiles,” his father said, moving to his head. Stiles rested his head in his father’s lap. He could see his father watching the fight. Stiles felt like he could close his eyes now. His father would make sure Derek was okay.

“Really dad,” Stiles said, it came out in a little bit of a whine. “I haven’t coughed up even a little blood.”

Melissa had been rummaging in the bag. She lifted Stiles up. 

“I need you to take these pills and drink some water, Stiles,” she said in her head nurse voice.

“Shit it is bad,” Stiles said, taking the pills.

“We need to get him to the hospital,” Melissa told them, looking at the door.

“Understatement,” Stiles muttered. 

“You aren’t allowed to die,” Derek said. 

Stiles opened his eyes and there was Derek, bloody and whole. “Promise. How is Benny?”

“None of them will ever harm anyone ever again,” Derek promised.

“Good,” Stiles said weakly.

“There are sirens coming,” Derek said.

The Sheriff stood up. “I’ve got this.”

Derek leaned down and touched Stiles’s face. Stiles's eyes fluttered shut. Dry lips pressed against his burning forehead.

“All I wanted,” Stiles said contentedly.

“Derek,” Lydia said. “You need to come here.”

Stiles opened his eyes and looked at where Henry was still crying on her shoulder.

“What is wrong?” Stiles said, scrambling to sit up again.

Derek steadied him. “Stay, I have this.”

Stiles watched as Derek went over to Henry. Derek tried to rub off some of the blood in the two steps that it took to get to Henry.

Lydia gently put Henry in Derek’s arms. Henry was still sobbing. He wouldn’t look at Derek.

“It’s okay,” Derek said, rocking him a little. “You’re safe now.”

Henry looked up at him, his eyes glowing red.

“My eyes,” he whispered. “They’re different.”

Derek didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. One of his hands came and stroked his son's head.

“Different,” Derek said, his voice choked with emotion. “But still beautiful, just like the rest of you.” 

Derek came back and sat next to Stiles. Stiles leaned against Derek and looked at their son.

The newest little Alpha.


	4. Home Again

Stiles woke up without a body besides him. He could feel the cold curl of panic cramp his gut and crawl up his spine before he opened his eyes, before he registered the pain of his body and his immobilized arm.

He opened his eyes blearily and couldn’t remember how to breathe. He just wanted to breathe.

“What is wrong with him?” Derek said. “Where is the nurse call button?”

“Kiss him,” he could hear Lydia from far away. “It’s a panic attack.”

Stiles choked on his empty throat. He could only imagine the incredulousness on Derek’s face.

“It always worked in high school,” Lydia said. “Just do it.”

Stiles felt warm familiar lips on his. He could feel the warm hands on his body. He felt whole again. The lips tested around his, they were feather light but a firm presence. Stiles opened his mouth and the kiss deepened. Stiles twitched and kissed back. A breath filled his lungs and he let out a contented sigh and relaxed under Derek’s hands.

Stiles opened his eyes a little and saw Derek’s worried face.

“Hi,” Stiles said a little breathlessly. “Nice to see you.”

Derek traced his finger over Stiles’s hairline. “Don’t move much. Your arm is broken and you have IVs giving you fluids.”

“I’m alive?” Stiles said in wonderment.

Derek grabbed Stiles’s hand. “Please don’t poke your face or bandages. It took hours to clean and wrap you.”

Stiles grinned a little. “You know me.”

Derek’s fingers dug into Stiles’s skin. They just looked at each other letting the fact that they had skirted the edge of losing each other.

Derek broke the silence and the grave moment, he released Stiles. “You spend a lot of time kissing Lydia in high school?”

Stiles lifted his hand and waved back and forth. “It happens. Life, death, kissing Lydia.”

“I think I am insulted,” Lydia said.

“I think that I’m on drugs,” Stiles said, pulling Derek in for another kiss, Derek humored him and then pulled back.

Stiles lazily opened his eyes and looked around. Lydia was sitting on a chair, Dade was on her lap, watching Stiles. Dade was still and had his amber eyes focused Stiles, tracking his every motion. That was something Stiles had yet to see in the last eight months. Even when he was sleeping Dade was rarely still.

Stiles scratched at the golden ring around his neck. He looked down and one of the wards was also around his neck.

“I’m blinged out,” Stiles muttered.

“Scott and Isaac are on their way with some witches,” Derek said glaring at the jewelry as if it personally offended him.

“Where is Henry?” Stiles said, his voice taking on an urgent tone.

This time sound a lot less panicked, but he still wasn’t quite stable.

Derek kissed him, this time with more function than finesse, it was just something he was doing in case. Then he leaned down and gave Stiles a little kiss, sweet and just between them. He stood up and went to Dade and Lydia in the chair.. 

“He’s four and newly an Alpha. You’ve been out for two days. Allison and your father took him out,” Derek said, watching them. “He was climbing the walls and driving everyone crazy.”

Derek brought Dade over to Stiles. 

“Be gentle,” Derek told Dade.

Derek carefully placed Dade on Stiles’s bed. Dade looked up at Stiles with concerned eyes. 

“Hey little man, I’ve missed you,” Stiles said with a smile.

Dade moved with more restraint than Stiles had ever seen. Dade just curled into Stiles and began to suck on his thumb.

“It only took me being beaten to calm him down,” Stiles remarked.

“Not funny,” Derek barked. 

Stiles jumped back a little. Derek reached out a hand tentatively. Stiles leaned into his, but he still looked a little pale.

“Henry put the fear in him,” Lydia said. “Some part of Dade is reacting to Henry.”

Derek and Stiles exchanged a look.

Lydia stood up. “Looks like parenthood got that much more complicated.”

Stiles looked up worried at Derek. “We can stay right? There can be two Alphas in a pack, Scott’s inner wolf isn’t going to eat Henry.”

Derek shook his head vehemently. “A pack is a pack. It’s made up of whatever a pack decides to let in. Scott can spend one on one time with Henry, both to show who is dominant and also to show that Scott considers him still part of us.”

Stiles sighed. “Oh good, that is good.”

Dade sucked on his thumb and Stiles moved a little, feeling his whole aching body. Everything was there. Nothing was missing. Not any more.

“How are you Lydia?” Stiles asked.

Lydia held up a hand to show a metal brace. “I got kidnapped at all I got was a few bruises, a broken thumb, and a sprained wrist. You’re the one showboating with the dehydration and arm fractured in two places, and all the bruised ribs.”

Dade popped his thumb out of his mouth and squealed. 

“It isn’t as cool as it sounds,” Stiles told Dade. 

Dade just gave him a slobbery grin and reached out for Stiles. Derek’s hand went abort the attempt for touch that would probably hurt Stiles, Derek looked at Lydia expectantly.

“What do you want me to do?” Lydia asked.

“You’re the baby whisperer,” Derek said. “You say some part of Dade is responding to Henry, I say he’s responding to you. He likes you.”

Lydia sighed. “I have a PhD, I’m working on my second. I’m way overqualified to be your babysitter.”

Derek smirked a little. “We only want the best. We have a four year old Alpha and Dade. There is no such thing as overqualified.”

A nurse walked in and suddenly the mood in the room changed. Three pairs of eyes focused on the newcomer, none of them welcoming.

“You’re awake,” she said smiling at them. The three adults in the room just looked at her warily. She stepped forward to the machines attached to Stiles. He flinched. Derek growled a little as Stiles became more and more uncomfortable.

Lydia stepped between the nurse and the Hale-Stilinski clan who was actively glaring at her.

“We’ve had a great trauma,” Lydia told her. “We’re not receptive to new people. I believe that his file says that only Melissa McCall is to come in here.”

The nurse’s smile faltered and Dade began to growl.

“Really, leave us,” Lydia said. “He’s fine and awake. Please find Melissa if you need anything.”

The nurse slowly backed out of the room.

“I think she was more scared of Lydia than you,” Stiles commented, reaching out for Derek.

Derek sat gingerly on the bed and sprawled on it. “I have teeth.”

Lydia chomped her teeth. “I use mine.”

“He used his pretty well the other night,” Stiles pointed out.

Lydia nodded. “Yeah you did.

She came and sat on the other side of Stiles, looking at Derek with grateful eyes. “Thank you for coming for us.”

Derek tilted head and nodded. “Thank you for being there.”

She turned towards Stiles. “We made it.”

“We kept breathing,” Stiles agreed. “We kept going until we got out.”

Derek leaned in towards Stiles and closed his eyes. Lydia lay down on the bed. Derek and Lydia looked a little awkward, but none of them could move. They needed to pile together. Dade made happy noises and squirmed a little.

For just a little bit they lay together. Dade made little noises and played with Derek’s fingers.

“Running water,” Lydia sighed grabbing Dade’s feet.

“Beds that aren’t infested,” Stiles said running a finger over Dade’s chubby arm.

Dade let out a little howl and Derek ran a hand over his head.

“Knowing where everyone is,” he added softly.

Stiles sighed happily.

The moment was broken when Derek opened his eyes and looked at the door.

“Incoming?” Lydia asked, sitting up primly. Derek followed her lead and stood up in his looming stance. Stiles looked at them and then at Dade who had perked up.

Stiles watched the door. He heard them before he saw them. Two werewolves coming down the hallway were surprisingly thunderous. An almost bearded Scott showed up at the doorway first, followed by a strange woman and backed by a tired looking Isaac.

Scott gave Lydia a hug and then looked at Stiles.

“We were so worried,” Scott said, holding onto Lydia.

“As I can tell by the extreme scruff,” Stiles said.

Scott let go of Lydia and gave her a smile. “Thanks for your directions. We found the coven pretty easily.”

Lydia looked over at Stiles and all replies died on her lips. 

Stiles had a pallid look to his face. Derek stood behind him, a hand on Stiles’s shoulder, the hand was clawed and Derek’s eyes were glowing blue. He hadn’t completely wolfed out, but there were stirrings of a growl in his chest.

The woman didn’t look up, didn’t move. Isaac didn’t take his eyes off of her.

“Take it off him,” Derek commanded. “If anything happens to either one of them, anything, you will live a long time and what happened to them will seem like an all inclusive vacation.”

She didn’t move a muscle, just spoke quietly. “We were under the Alpha’s threat. We owed him a debt.”

Derek growled, deep and menacing.

“You owe us a debt now, I estimate three,” Scott said, his voice pitched low and Alpha.

She looked up at Stiles, who hadn’t looked away from her.

“No,” he said steadily, feeling in control with the pressure of Derek’s hand on his shoulder. “You owe us a debt for each of the lives we don’t take in your coven. For every person who had a hand in this you owe us.”

She nodded. “We do.”

Derek’s fingers relented a little.

She looked at Dade in the curve of Stiles’s arm.

“Can I ask?” she said hesitantly. “About the boy?”

Derek’s finger’s clamped down again. Stiles didn’t flinch, he just rubbed his cheek along the back of Derek’s hand. It was soothing enough that Derek moved to wrap himself around Stiles.

“He’s alive,” Stiles said calmly. “Which is why our peace bringer isn’t going up to your coven and tearing all of you limb from limb.”’

Her face showed relief. “We are glad. We will be in your debt. We always repay our debt.”

“Even when it causes harm to other people’s lives,” Derek growled. Stiles leaned further into him. Stiles could feel the vibrations of Derek’s chest as he held Dade right to him.

She nodded, her face crumpling.

“You will not do that anymore,” Scott said. “Your first debt to us is that you will never hurt another human being when you repay your debts. You will never hand over children to madmen.”

She turned to look at Scott. “Thank you.”

When she turned back to the hospital bed there was some relief on her face. Stiles turned towards Derek, his face had slid back into his human visage.

“Take these things off their necks,” Derek said, his voice still as cold as ice, but less aggressive.

The woman stepped forward. She stood in front of Stiles and lifted her hands. She paused for a second and looked at Derek, seemingly asking permission. 

“Lydia take Dade,” Derek said a little more softly. 

Stiles moved a little to let Lydia take Dade from his arms. Dade fussed a little bit, but Lydia hushed him. Stiles could feel his heart beat speed up as the woman reached out for him. Derek’s arms came around him.

“Close your eyes,” Derek whispered in his ears. “I’ve got you.”

Stiles leaned back into him. He closed his eyes and felt the soothing presence of Derek behind him. He felt the morphine in his bloodstream soothe his aching body. He ignored the chanting in front of him, the new hands touching his neck.

The thought of someone touching him made him feel ill.

“Remember that time we were up against the fairies?” Derek said. “And for some reason they liked you? I never asked you how you did that.”

“I am very charming,” Stiles said, his voice still coming out a croak.

“They were swearing revenge on Allison,” Derek said, his breath heart against Stiles’s neck. “Yet at the same time they were leaving you flowers, Deaton said that they were trying to court you.”

Stiles opened his mouth.

“Stiles, the fairy jokes weren’t funny then and they aren’t now,” Lydia said.

Stiles felt the metal around ease and then give. His eyes flew open and the metal was once again a flat piece of gold in her outstretched hands. He felt Derek’s arm relax around him and then gently take off the charm around his neck.

“You’re safe now,” Lydia said, putting Dade back next to him. Dade seemed to be fascinated by the shiny object. He looked about two seconds from leaping towards it when Derek put a restraining hand on him.

“Take hers off,” Derek said, but his voice had lost all of its bite. “And get these away from us.”

Stiles didn’t realize that he was shaking until Derek reached for his morphine drip and pressed the button. There was a warm rush through his veins. He blinked a couple of times and watched as Derek moved behind Lydia and put both hands on her shoulders. She sat tall, but one of her hands snaked out and held on gently to Stiles’s leg. Dade yawned and sucked his thumb on Stiles’s chest.

His last thought before unconsciousness took him was that this is what he wanted. This is what he had wanted every night.

**

Stiles didn’t make it through the night before being in the hospital became unbearable. He woke up, morphine hazed in the middle of a panic attack three times before Derek raised hell, Stiles needed to be home. Melissa pulled some strings to get Stiles released. The hospital thought that they were insane, but the group of them had enough frequent flyer hospital miles that they were allowed unconventional treatment.

Stiles was still mostly unconscious when he was wheeled to the door. Derek picked him up and put him in the car. Scott and Isaac had already taken the boys to the house.

“There went the last of my dignity,” Stiles muttered. “I’m just the damsel.”

“Stop being stoic,” Derek said, buckling his belt. “You’re very big and strong.”

“No more drugs,” Stiles said, leaning against the headrest.

“No more drugs,” Derek promised.

“And I’m very very manly,” Stiles said, eyes closing.

“And the bravest person I’ve ever met,” Derek said, then gently closed the door.

**

Stiles woke up startled, he was on a bed that was too big.

“Henry,” he gasped.

Warm hands skimmed his skin.

“He’s downstairs curled up with Scott,” Derek’s voice said soothingly. “They’re asleep.”

Stiles groaned as his pain came back. Derek’s hands flattened on him and the pain abated. Stiles curled into Derek.

“Lydia,” Stiles said.

“She’s with Allison in the guest bed room,” Derek said, listening a little bit. “They’re still awake, talking about nothing.”

Stiles breathed in and curled more into Derek.

“Dade,” Stiles murmured. 

“Sacked out on the couch with Isaac,” Derek said, holding Stiles close.

Stiles felt himself relax.

“You’re safe,” Derek said, not letting go a bit. “They’re all safe.”

“They all have their people,” Derek said, sniffing along Stiles’s hairline.

“And you are my people,” Stiles said, trying to get closer to Derek.

Derek just held him closer. “I am your people.”

Stiles closed his eyes. 

“We don’t get many of these moments.” Derek murmured

There was a rumble that Stiles knew was laughter. “The almost dead moments? the moments where I’m absolutely terrified that I’m going to have debilitating PTSD and not be able to be normal ever again? The worry that I’ll never sleep a full night again.”

Derek held him closer. “I will be here. For all those nights.”

Stiles opened his eyes and looked up at Derek, silhouetted in the dark.

“I have you,” Stiles said.

“Can’t get rid of me,” Derek said. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

Stiles laughed, but it turned into a sob. “Have I ever thanked you?”

“A couple of times,” Derek said.

“I should say it more often,” Stiles said.

Derek looked down at him and nodded, biting his lip. “I never thought I would hear it again. I’ve never been able to shut you up, but the thing that drove me to the edge is that I wouldn’t hear you again.”

Stiles sniffled and spoke his confessions quietly into the still night. 

“I gave up,” Stiles said. “Every night I gave up. Benny broke me, every single time. I would go to bed and stare up at the ceiling, listening to Lydia and Henry and I hurt so much. I just was so tired and so scared that tomorrow it would hurt worse.”

Stiles shuddered. Derek’s fingers traced gently at the underside of Stiles’s jaw. It was gentle and soothing.

“But you didn’t,” Derek said. 

“No,” Stiles said, breathing in deeply. “Every night I wanted to die, but every morning I woke up to Henry’s face, his little smile. He would wake me up and ask me for a story and ask me to play checkers.”

“He’s amazingly resilient,” Derek said. “All he needed to know was if Scott still would accept him. He just needed to hear that as long as he recognized Scott as his leader that he was still a full fledged member of the McCall Pack. Then he asked for jello and had all the nurses at the hospital around his finger and he was telling me knock knock jokes.”

“Kid never got tired of those,” Stiles said. “We have to work on his sense of humor.”

“You’re going to blame me for this, aren’t you?” Derek asked.

“Yes,” Stiles said. “But I think it is too late. He has the Hale sense of humor, which is none.”

Derek laughed. “I wish you could have met Laura, you would change your mind. She was always making sure that we laughed, even when things were hell.”

Stiles buried his face in Derek’s chest. “That is what I wanted. Every night. The rare sound of Derek Hale laughing.”

Derek kissed his forehead. “You have it.”

“I kept going because Henry was grinning at me,” Stiles said. “Every morning without fail. We would play and maybe Benny would come by maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe something new would break and maybe it wouldn’t. Some days it hurt so much to do something like hold onto my son, but we made sure that he would still smile.”

“He’s a happy boy,” Derek said with a smile.

“He’s amazing,” Stiles said. “You’ve done a great job.”

Derek intertwined their fingers. “Pretty sure I had help.”

“You sweet talker,” Stiles sighed. 

“Allison had to pry me away from Dade the other night,” Derek said. “When I got back he was always with me. For the last few weeks…”

Derek trailed off and Stiles felt an ache in his chest, he could only imagine, he had imagined a few times, he was sure that the last few weeks in this house had been unbearable.

Stiles looked up at him, Derek was bathed in moonlight. Stiles committed this moment to memory. 

“I don’t know how you’ve gone on when everything seems against you,” Stiles said finally, running his hands over Derek’s muscled arm. “You’ve lost everything again and again and yet you’re still here, preaching peace, and kicking ass.”

Derek looked down at the bed. “I didn’t think about it. After the fire I had Laura, some part of me, probably the boy my mother raised, thought that it could get back to normal. If I kept going it would hurt less, I could put Kate behind me, I could have a family.”

Stiles moved his hand up to cup Derek’s face. 

“And after?” Stiles asked.

Derek swallowed.

“I need you to speak too,” Stiles said. “I can listen.”

“I wonder sometimes,” Derek commented. “When Laura died, I nearly forgot, but I was here and I remembered family. I thought if I tried hard enough I could get to that place again. I thought that I could have a house of noise and people who cared.”

“And now you do,” Stiles said. 

“I always hoped I would be here,” Derek said.

“In bed with a broken, mentally scarred, human?” Stiles asked.

Derek pulled away. Stiles whimpered at the loss and the jarring of his bones.

“Sorry,” Derek whispered, his hands going to Stiles and taking some of his pain. “But you don’t get to say that about yourself.”

Stiles looked up at him, he could feel the tears welling up, he could feel them spill over, even as he couldn’t feel his own pain any more.

“You’re my family,” Derek said. 

Stiles closed his eyes. “And I’m home.”

Derek curled into his neck and sniffed. Stiles didn’t know if it was crying or scenting. Probably a bit of both.

“I’ll marry you,” Stiles said. 

Derek pulled away startled and Stiles gave him an awkward grin.

“I was scared,” Stiles confessed. 

Derek raised his eyebrows. 

“I accept your incredulity as a reassurance to my continued dashing persona,” Stiles said.

Derek’s eyebrows raised a little higher. “That was a lot of words.”

“You should see me high,” Stiles said. “The sentences that I can string together would befuddle James Joyce.”

“I’ll pass,” Derek said. “I’d like to hear a little more about this change of mind of yours.”

Stiles sighed. “I didn’t know why, I couldn’t really tell you before, but I’ve had a lot of time to think about it lately.”

Derek looked at him suspiciously. “This isn’t because you were about to die is it?”

“No, well kind of,” Stiles said. “You made this little place in your life for me. Boyfriend I was pretty sure that I could do, I mean I’ve never been overly successful at it, but I could probably fake my way through that and dad, well I had been worried about that for awhile, like if I fed Henry McDonalds or if I bought him toys from China I would be back at my dad’s house.”

“Because I so often dump people?” Derek intoned. “You know me so well.”

“Emotions don’t usually respond well to logic, quit trying to make all of this rational,” Stiles snuggling into Derek. “I figured it out eventually, I finally really felt like Henry was mine and then we had Dade and I got that. I was sure of that.”

“So you could be a boyfriend and father, but husband still seemed like a little much?” Derek said. 

“My mother has been dead for over twenty-five years. He still wears her ring, longer than he was married to her,” Stiles said. “Marriage is something I take seriously.”

Derek pulled Stiles closer. “I completely get that.”

“You’re just you, I kept waiting for you to realize that I was Stiles, that I was always going to be the one who said ‘kill them’ or that I was always going to be the one who talked us into bad situations.”

“And you didn’t think that I liked that part of you?” Derek asked.

“You like being annoyed?” Stiles asked.

“Apparently,” Derek said.

“I knew that, I thought that you would get over that,” Stiles said. 

“If it hasn’t happened it probably won’t,” Derek pointed out. “You rarely agree with me about pack business, but you haven’t left yet, even when we’ve gotten into screaming matches about it.”

“That is the thing,” Stiles said. “That is why I will marry you, because I realized that somewhere along the way we had taken on the best of each other. You can win a fight, when the important things are on the line. I can talk peace when fists are flying into my face, just like you, just like your mother. I realized that this isn’t about me any more, I’m terrified, but you seem sure and Henry seems sure, the pack is sure, and I’m sure I want it.”

Derek swallowed.

Stiles closed his eyes and whispered. “I just want someone who will wear the ring I gave them for the rest of our lives. I just want you to.”

Stiles could feel Derek’s smile against his forehead. “Then that is a yes.”

“Sorry it took so long,” Stiles replied.

“You always take longer, but you get there,” Derek teased.

They lay there for a minute, just being.

“The boys still okay?” Stiles asked.

Derek listened for a moment. “Dade is still sleeping, Henry is awake and asking Scott if you and I have to obey him now.”

“Scott better be telling him that we’re his parents and he still has to eat vegetables and make his bed,” Stiles yawned.

“Scott is handling it,” Derek said.

“Good,” Stiles said sleepily. 

**

Stiles opened his eyes when he felt someone crawling into bed.

“Be gentle Henry,” Derek said, reaching a hand over Stiles to steady him. 

Henry’s green eyes looked at Stiles. “You still hurt?”

“Just a little,” Stiles replied. He looked over to the doorway and Lydia stood there in her pajamas, carrying Dade.

“The boys couldn’t sleep,” Lydia said. “The trio is trying to get all the sleep they can before their own little bundle of joy comes.”

Stiles lifted the edge of the blanket. “The more the merrier.”

“We’re going to need a bigger bed,” Derek muttered, pulling Henry to him and tickling his son. “They’re not going to be tiny forever.”

“I’m not tiny,” Henry piped up.

Lydia yawned. “We know little man. You’re a big bad Alpha.”

“Grrr,” Henry said, dissolving into giggles.

“What do you want to watch?” Derek asked, reaching on the bedside table for the clicker.”

Dade’s head popped up from the blankets, looking at Henry with wide pleading eyes, his other form of getting what he wanted.

“Nemo it is,” Derek said turning on the tv.

Dade clapped his hands at his brother. 

Lydia curled up. “Sleeping now.

“Now don’t be sad,” Henry said to Dade. “The beginning is sad, but it gets better.”

Stiles stroked Dade’s hair as he sucked on his thumb and nodded to Henry. Dade probably didn’t really get the movie more than the fact that there were talking colorful fish and they had seen it close to seventy times, but Henry said that to Dade every time.

Stiles caught Derek’s eye and then they grinned and settled in to watch the movie.

“Hey guys,” Derek said softly. “Stiles and I are getting married.”

Lydia’s eyes popped open. “You’re not planning anything. This is my deal.”

Derek cocked his head. “The day is all yours. I’ll take the lifetime.”

Stiles was watching Henry, who seemed confused.

“You aren’t happy buddy?” Stiles asked.

“Yay?” Henry said shrugging.

Derek and Stiles watched Henry’s lack of reaction, in shock.

Lydia burrowed deeper in the pillow. “They don’t know anyone besides the twins who is married and they don’t like the twins.”

Derek and Stiles looked at each other.

“Let them watch the movie,” Lydia said sleepily. “Explain later.”

Stiles started laughing and then groaned as the laughing shot spikes of pain through his body. Derek reached over and Stiles felt relief.

Derek’s hand stayed in Stiles’s hair and the boys snuggled in and watched the movie.

**Author's Note:**

> There is another time stamp. 
> 
> Because this fic ate my brain.


End file.
